YOLANDE. 


WILLIAM    BLACK. 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE/'  "STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  PHAETON, 
"A  DAUGHTER  OF  HETH,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK : 

JOHN    W.    LOYELL   COMPANY, 

14  AND  16  VESEY  STREET. 


TOO 


TOL  ANDE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BELEASED  FROM  CHATEAU  COLD  FLOORS. 

LATE  one  evening  in  April,  in  the  private  sitting-room 
on  the  first  floor  of  a  hotel  in  Albemarle  Street,  a  member 
of  the  British  House  of  Commons  was  lying  back  in  an  easy- 
chair,  having  just  begun  to  read,  in  an  afternoon  journal, 
an  article  about  himself.  He  was  a  man  approaching  fifty, 
with  what  the  Scotch  call  "  a  salt-water  face  "  ;  that  is  to  say 
a  face  tanned  and  reddened  with  wind  and  weather,  sharp 
of  feature,  and  with  hair  become  prematurely  quite  silver 
white.  At  a  first  glance  he  seemed  to  have  the  air  of  an 
imperative,  eager,  aggressive  person  ;  but  that  impression 
was  modified  when  by  any  accident  you  met  his  eyes,  which 
were  nervous,  shrinking,  and  uncertain.  Walking  in  the 
street,  he  rarely  saw  any  one ;  perhaps  he  was  too  pre- 
occupied with  public  affairs ;  perhaps  he  was  sensitively 
afraid  of  not  being  able  to  recognize  half-remembered  faces. 
When  sitting  alone,  slight  noises  made  him  start. 

This  was  what  the  man  with  the  thin  red  face  and  the 
silver  white  hair  was  reading  : — 

"  By  his  amendment  of  last  night,  which,  as  every  one 
anticipated,  was  defeated  by  an  overwhelming  majority,  the 
member  for  Slagpool  has  once  more  called  attention  to  thy 
unique  position  which  he  occupies  in  contemporary  politics. 
Consistent  only  in  his  hopeless  inconsistency,  and  only  to  be 
reckoned  on  for  the  wholly  unexpected,  one  wonders  for 


o  YQ.LANDR. 

what  particular  purpose  the  electors  of  Slagpool  ever  thought 
•  liuir  Mr.  Wintorbourne  to  Parliament,  unless,  indeed, 
kq  MM-P  ,ii;it  their  town  should  be  sufficiently 
often  heard  of   in  the  council*  <»t'  the  nation.     A    politician 
Jingo  in  foreign  affairs  and  an  ultra- 
try  at   home  ;  an    upholder  of  the    divine   rights 
and  liberties  of  the  multitude,  who  at  the  same  time  would, 
if  he   couid,  force   them  to  close   every  public-house  in   the 
country,  alike  on  Sunday  and  Saturday  ;  a  virulent  oppo- 
nent of  Vivisection,  who  nevertheless  champions  the  Game 
i,  and  who  is  doubtful   about  the  Abolition  of   Capital 
Punishment,  probably  because  he  would  like  to  reserve  to 
himM  If  the  right  of  hanging  poachers  :  it  may  be  conceded 
that  such  a  member  of  Parliament  if  he  is  not  to  be  counted 
on  by  any  party,  or  by  any  section  or  sub-section  of  any  party 
— if,  indeed,  he  is  ordinarily  a  good  deal  more  dangerous  to 
his  allies  than  to  his  enemies — may  at  least  do  some  service 
to  liis  constituents  by  continually  reminding  the  country  of 
their  existence,  while  ministering  on  the  same  occasions  to 
vii  inordinate  vanity.     For  it  is  to  this — it  is  to  an  in- 
ordinate   vanity,    spurred    on    by   an   irritable    and    capri- 
•  per— that  we  must  look  for  the  cause  of  those 
championships  and  petulant   antagonisms,  those 
erratic   appearances  and   disappearances,  those  sudden   al- 
liaiH-i  n,  :i::d  incomprehensible  desertions,  which  have  made 
member  for  Slagpool  the  very  whirligig  and  teetotum 
'ish  polities." 
1  got  thus  far  he  stopped. 

•mds  like   the  writing  of  a  young  man,"  he  was 

11  But  perhaps  it  is  true.     Perhaps  that  is   what 

'  The  public  press  is   a  mirror.     I  wonder  if  that 

;pp«-ar  to  Yolan-le?  " 

!!••  heard   a   footstep   outside,   and   immediately  thrust 
•MI  him,  face   downward.     The  next 
:  tin-   p>om  was   opened,  and  the  frame- 
'•:tme  the   framework  of  a  living  picture, 
rhtened  up  with  pleasure, 
fie  doorway  was  that  of  a  young 
,'ularly  tall  and  strikingly  fair,  who  stood 
'id,  half  laughing. 

idea?" 

•i.-d,  peevishly.     "Yolande, 
instead  of  better.     Why 
'his  what  you  meant V'  " 


YOLANDE.  3 

"Is  this  what  you  meant?"  she  said,  promptly,  and 
with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

His  eyes  could  not  dwell  on  her  for  two  seconds  together 
and  be  vexed. 

"Come  to  the  mirror,  child,  and  put  on  your  hat,  and 
let  me  see  the  whole  thing  properly." 

She  did  as  she  was  bid,  stepping  over  to  the  fireplace, 
and  standing  before  the  old-fashioned  mirror  as  she  adjus- 
ted the  wide-brimmed  Rubens  hat  over  the  ruddy  gold  of 
her  hair.  For  this  was  an  experiment  in  costume,  and  it 
had  some  suggestion  of  novelty.  The  plain  gown  was  of  a 
uniform  cream  white,  of  some  rough  towel-like  substance 
that  seemed  to  cling  naturally  to  the  tall  and  graceful 
figure  ;  and  it  was  touched  here  and  there  with  black  velvet, 
and  the  tight  sleeves  had  black  velvet  cuffs  ;  while  the 
white  Rubens  hat  had  also  a  band  of  black  velvet  round 
the  bold  sweep  of  the  brim.  For  the  rest,  she  wore  no 
ornaments  but  a  thick  silver  necklace  round  her  throat,  and 
a  plain  silver  belt  round  her  waist,  the  belt  being  a  broad 
zone  of  solid  metal,  untouched  by  any  graver. 

But  any  one  who  had  seen  this  young  English  girl 
standing  there,  her  arms  uplifted,  her  hands  busy  with  her 
hat,  would  not  have  wasted  much  attention  on  the  details 
of  her  costume.  Her  face  was  interesting,  even  at  an  age 
when  gentleness  and  sweetness  are  about  the  only  charac- 
teristics that  one  expects  to  meet  with.  And  although  no 
mere  catalogue  of  her  features — the  calm  clear  brow  ;  the 
wide-apart  gray-blue  eyes;  the  aquiline  nose;  the  unusu- 
ally short  upper  lip  and  beautiful  rounded  chin  ;  her  soft 
and  wavy  hair  glistening  in  its  ruddy  gold  ;  and  her  com- 
plexion, that  was  in  reality  excessively  fair,  only  that  an 
abundance  of  freckles,  as  well  as  the  natural  rose-color 
of  youth  in  her  cheeks,  spoke  of  her  not  being  much 
afraid  of  the  sun  and  of  the  country  air — although  no  mere 
enumeration  of  these  things  is  at  all  likely  to  explain  the 
unnamable  grace  that  attracted  people  to  her,  yet  there  was 
at  least  one  expression  of  her  face  that  could  be  accounted 
for.  That  unusually  short  upper  lip,  that  has  been  noted 
above,  gave  aslight  pensive  droop  to  the  mouth  whenever  her 
features  were  in  repose;  so  that  when  she  suddenly  looked 
up  with  her  wide  wondering,  timid,  and  yet  trustful 
eyes,  there  was  something  pathetic  and  wistful  there. 
It  was  an  expression  absolutely  without  intention  ;  it  was 
inexplicable,  and  also  winning ;  it  seemed  to  convey  a  sort 


4  YOLANDE. 

«»f  involuntary  unconscious  appeal  for  gentleness  and  friend- 
ship, but.  beyond  that  it.  had  no  significance  whatsoever.     It 
had  nothing  to  do  with  any  sorrow,  suffered  or  foreshadowed. 
So  far  the  girls  existence  had  been  passed  among  the  roses 
and    lilies  of  life  ;  the  only  serious  grievance  she  had  ever 
known  was  the  winter  coldness  of  the  floors  in  the  so-called 
ui  in  Brittany  where  she  had  been  educated.     And 
-he  was  emancipated  from  the  discipline  of  the  Chateau 
Floors,  as  she  had  named  the  place ;  and  the  world 
was  fair  around  her ;  and  every  day  was  a  day  of  gladness 
•r  from  the  first  "Good-morning"  over  the  breakfast 
table  to  the  very  last  of  all  the  last  and  lingering  "Good- 
nights  "  that  had  to  be  said  before  she  would  let  her  father 

>\vn  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  House. 

This  must  be  admitted  about  Yolande  Winterbourne, 

however,  that  she  had  two  very  distinct  manners.     With 

her  friends  and  intimates  she  was  playful,  careless,  and  not 

without  a  touch  of  humorous  wilfulness ;  but  with  stran- 

and  especially  with  strangers  abroad,  she  could  assume 

in    the  most  astonishing  fashion  the  extreme  coldness  and 

<-sy  of  an  English  miss.     Remember,  she  was  tall,  fair, 

English-looking;  that,  when  all  the  pretty,  timid  trust- 

1  merriment  were  out  of  them,  her  eyes  were  wide 

apart   and  clear  and  contemplative  ;  and  further,  that  the 

;  the  Chateau  Cold  Fk»u*s  had  instructed  her 

.".'•w  she  should  behave  when  she  went  travelling  with 

a  her,   which   happened   pretty   often.     At  the  table 

,  witli   her  father  present,  she  was  as  light-hearted,  as 

nt  as  any  one  could  wish.     In  the  music- 

r  dinner,  or  on  the  deck  of  a  steamer,  or  anywhere, 

i .it  her  by  accident  absent,  she  was  the  English 

ut  :md  out,  and  no  aside  conversations  were  possible. 

1,  so  reserved,  so  English,"  thought  many  an 

viblt-  yonnir  foreigner  who  had  been  charmed  with 

i.-ibli*,  vivacious  face  as  it  had  regarded  him 

across  the  white  table  cover   and   the   flowers.     Yolande's 

•  •aim,  even  austere  on  occasion. 
Bant?11  she  repeated,  turning  to  him 
I  I--r  face  was  bright  enough  now. 
:    lie,  nither  reluctantly.     "  I— I  thought 
But  you  see,  Yolande,— -you  see— it  is 
y— but  for  London— to  drive  in    the  Park— in 
't  it  be  a  little  conspicuous  ?  " 


YOLANDE.  5 

Her  eyes  were  filled  with  astonishment ;  his  rather  wan- 
dered away  nervously  to  the  table. 

"But,  papa,  I  don't  understand  you!  Everywhere  else 
you  are  always  wishing  me  to  wear  the  brightest  and 
lightest  of  colors.  I  may  wear  what  I  please — and  that  is 
only  to  please  you,  that  is  what  I  care  about  only — any- 
where else :  if  we  are  going  for  a  walk  along  the  Lung' 
Arno,  or  if  we  go  for  a  drive  in  the  Prater,  yes,  and  at  Oat- 
land  Park,  too,  I  can  not  please  you  with  enough  bright 
colors  ;  but  here  in  London  the  once  or  twice  of  my 
visits — " 

"Do  speak  English,  Yolande,"  said  he,  sharlply 
11  Don  t  hurry  so." 

"The  once  or  twice  I  am  in  London,  oh,  no  !  Every- 
thing is  too  conspicuous  !  Is  it  the  smoke,  papa.  And  thia 
time  I  was  so  anxious  to  please  you  ! — all  your  own  ideas  ; 
not  mine  at  all.  But  what  do  I  care  ?  "  She  tossed  the 
Rubens  hat  on  to  the  couch  that  was  near,  "  Come  !  What 
is  there  about  a  dress  ?  It  will  do  for  some  other  place, 
not  so  dark  and  smoky  as  London.  Come— sit  down  papa 
— you  do  not  wish  to  go  away  to  the  House  yet  !  You  have 
not  finished  about  Godfrey  of  Bouillon." 

•'  I  am  not  going  to  read  any  more  Gibbon  to  you  to- 
night, Yolande,"  said  he  ;  but  he  sat  down,  all  the  same  in 
the  easy-chair,  and  she  placed  herself  on  the  hearthrug  be- 
fore him,  so  that  the  soft  ruddy  gold  of  her  hair  touched  his 
knees.  It  was  a  pretty  head  to  stroke. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  I  am  so  anxious  about  Gibbon,  then  ?  " 
she  said,  lightly,  as  she  settled  herself  into  a  comfortable 
position.  "  No.  Not  at  all.  I  do  not  want  any  more  Gib- 
bon. I  want  you.  And  you  said  this  morning  there  would 
be  nothing  but  stupidity  in  the  House  to-night." 

"  Well,  now,  Miss  Inveigler,  just  listen  to  this,"  said  he, 
laying  hold  of  her  by  both  her  small  ears.  "  Don't  you  think 
it  prudent  of  me  to  show  up  as  often  as  I  can  in  the  House — 
especially  when  there  is  a  chance  for  a  division — so  that  my 
good  friends  in  Slagpool  mayn't  begin  to  grumble  about  my 
being  away  so  frequently?  And  why  am  I  away?  Why  do 
I  neglect  my  duties  Why  do  I  let* the  British  Empire  glide 
on  to  its  doom?  Why,  but  that  I  may  take  a  wretched, 
schoolgirl — a  wretched,  small-brained  impertinent,  prattling 
schoolgirl — for  her  holidays,  and  show  her  things  she  can't 
understand  and  plough  through  'museums  and  picture- 
galleries  to  filla  mind  that  is  no  better  than  a  sieve?  Just 


6  YOLANDE. 

think  of  it.     The  British  Empire  going  headlong  to  the  mis- 
all  for  the  sake  of  an  empty-headed  schoolgirl  !  " 
"  Do  you  know,  \  apa,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  she 
said,  quietly. 

ad  are  you  ?  " 

'-  Yrs,"said  she,  nestling  closer  to   him  ;  "for  now  I 
think  my  dream  will  soon  be  coming  true." 
••  V. '.ur  dream?" 

••  M  v  dream — the  ambition  of  my  life,"  said  she,  serious- 
ly.  "  It  is  all  I  wish  for  and  hope  for.  Nothing  else — noth- 

;n  the  world." 

Mesa  us  all !  "  said  he,  with  a  touch  of  irony.     "  What 
•••rful  ambition  is  this?" 

'*  It  is  to  make  myself  indispensable  to  you,"  she  said, 
simply. 

1  It  took  his  hand  from  her  ears  and  put  them  on  her  hair, 
for  there  were  some  bits  of  curls  and  semi-ringlets  about  her 
neck  that  wanted  smoothing. 

"  Y<»u  ar'-  not  indispensable,  then?"  said  he. 

"  Listen  now,  papa;    it  is  your  turn,"  she  said.     "  Surely 

.    >hamc  that  you  have  wasted   so   much   time  on  me, 

through  so  many  years,  always  coming  to  sec  rne  and  take 

.  perhaps  not  a  week  between,  and  I  am  glad  enough, 

always  expectation  and  expectation,  and  my  things 

idy,  and  you,   poor  papa,  wasting  all  your  time, 

and  always  on  the    route  ;    and    that    such   a  long    way  to 

u  at  Oatlands  Park  the  same — up  and  down, 

up  and  down,  by   rail,  and  then  long  beautiful  days  that  were 

me,  but  were  stupid  to  you  when   you   were 

thinking  of  the  House  all  the  time.     Very  well,  now,  papa; 

1    have    more   tense   now;   I   have  been  thinking:     I    want 

to  you  ;  I   want  to   be  in  London  with 

ad  you  shall  never  have  to  run    away  idling, 

<  '..ntineiit  or  to  Oatlands  Park  ;  and  you  shall 

think  that  I  am  wearying  for  you,  when  I  am 

'.\\\  you  in  London.      That  is  it  now  ;  that  1    wish 

:  ••tary." 

ide,  she  turned  up  her  face  to  him  ; 

•  iande,"  lie  said,  hastily,  and  even  nervously. 
you  ;  it — it  wouldn't  do  at  all.    Don't 
thin 

1  •'.  "  what  other  member  of  Parliament, 
you   have,    is   without  a  private 


YOLANDE.  1 

secretary?  Why  should  you  ans\ver  all  those  letters  your 
self?  For  me,  I  will  learn  politics  very  quickly;  I  am 
studying  hard  ;  at  the  chateau  I  translated  all  your  speedup 
into  Italian  for  exercises.  And  just  to  think  that  you  have 
never  allowed  me  to  hear  you  speak  in  the  House!  When 
I  come  to  London — yes,  for  five  minutes  or  half  an  hour  at 
a  time — the  ladies  whom  I  see  will  not  believe  that  1  have- 
never  once  been  in  the — the  what  is  it  called  ? — for  the 
Indies  to  listen  in  the  House?  No,  they  cannot  believe  it. 
They  know  all  the  speakers ;  they  have  heard  all  the  great 
men  ;  they  spend  the  whole  of  the  evening  there,  and  have 
many  come  to  see  them — all  in  politics.  Well,  you  see, 
papa,  what  a  burden  it  would  be  taking  off  your  hands. 
You  would  not  always  have  to  come  home  and  dine  with 
me,  and  waste  so  much  of  the  evening  in  reading  to  me — no, 
I  should  be  at  the  House,  listening  to  you,  and  understand- 
ing everything.  Then  all  the  day  here,  busy  with  your 
letters.  Oh,  I  assure  you  I  would  make  prettier  compli- 
ments to  your  constituents  than  you  could  think  of;  I 
would  make  all  the  people  of  Slagpool  who  write  to  you 
think  you  were  the  very  best  member  they  could  choose. 
And  then — then  I  should  be  indispensable  to  you." 

"You  are  indispensable  to  me,  Yokinde.  You  are  my 
life.  What  else  do  I  care  for?  "  he  said,  hurriedly. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  papa,  if  I  say  it  is  foolish.  Oh,  to 
think  now  !  One's  life  is  more  important  than  that,  when 
you  have  the  country  to  guard." 

"  They  seem  to  think  there,"  said  he,  with  a  sardonic 
smile,  and  he  glanced  at  the  newspaper,  "that  the  country 
would  be  better  off  without  me." 

It  was  too  late  to  recall  this  unfortunate  speech.  He 
had  thrust  aside  the  newspaper  as  she  entered,  dreading 
that  by  accident  she  might  see  the  article,  and  be  wounded 
by  it;  but  now  there  was  no  help  for  it:  the  moment  he 
had  spoken  she  reached  over  and  took  up  the  journal,  and 
tound  her  father's  name  staring  her  in  the  face. 

"  Is  it  true,  Yolande  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  laugh.  "  Is  that 
what  I  am  like  ?  " 

As  she  read,  Yolande  tried  to  be  grandly  indifferent — 
even  contemptuous.  Was  it  for  her,  who  wished  to  be  of 
assistance  to  her  father  in  public  affairs,  to  mind  what  was 
said  about  him  in  a  leading  article  ?  And  then,  in  spite  of 
herself  tears  slowly  rotin  OJi-1  filled  the  soft  gray-blue  eyes, 
thomrh  she  kent  her  hefui  doun,  vainly  trying  to  hide  thorn- 


YOLANDE. 

And  then  mortification  at  her  weakness  made  her  angry, 

and  she  crushed  up  the  paper  twice  and  thrice,  and  hurled 

ii  into  the  tire;  nay,  she  seized  hold  of  the  poker  and  thrust 

and  drove  the  offending  journal  into  the  very  heart  of  the 

.     And  then  she   rose,  proud  and   indignant,  but  with 

ves  a  little  wet,  and  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  *aead,  she 

said  : — 

-  It  is  enough  time  to  waste  over  such  folly.  Perhaps 
the  poor  man  has  to  support  a  family ;  but  he  need  not 
write  such  stupidity  as  that.  Now,  papa,  what  shall  I  play 
for  you  ?  " 

She  was  going  to  the  piano.     But  he  had  risen  also. 
u  N'o,  no,  Yolande.     I  must  be  off  to  the  House.     There 
is  just  a  chance  of  a  division  ;  and  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to 
:i   a  few  words  somewhere,  just  To  show  the  Slagpool 
•  that  I  am  not  careering  about  the  Continent  with  my 
schoolgirl.      No,   no  ;  I  will  see   you  safe  in  your  room, 
iide;  and  your  lamp  lit,  and  everything  snug:  then — 
L-night." 
"Already?"   she  said,  with  a  great  disappointment  in 

"  Already  ?  " 

"Child,  child,  the  affairs  of  this  mighty  empire — " 
"  \Vliat  do  I  care  about  the  empire  !  "  she  said. 
II ••  stood  and  regarded  her  calmly. 

"  Y<»u  are  a  nice  sort  of  a  person  to  wish  to  be  private 
secretary  to  a  member  of  Parliament!  " 

'h,  but  if  you  will  only  sit  down  for  live  minutes, 
papa,"  she  said,  piteously,  "  I  could  explain  such  a  lot  to 
you — " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know.     I  know  very  well.     About  the  tem- 

ts  in  when  the  curls  fell  out  of  her  box." 
i,  it  is  you  who  make  me  frivolous.     I  wish  to  be 

:"in'_r,  Yolande." 

i  in  til  you  say,  '  I  love  you.'" 
•  ii." 

•  •  you.'" 
ou." 

v  »  • 

>  out  to-morrow  morning,  as  early  as  ever 

;'->r  the  breakfast  table?" 
•  :rd  t 


YOLAKDE.  9 

"  I  don't  like  your  going  out  by  yourself,  Yolande,"  said 
he,  rather  hesitatingly.  "You  can  order  flowers.  You 
can  ring  and  tell  the  waiter — " 

"  The  waiter  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  am  I  of  use  for 
then,  if  it  is  a  waiter  who  will  choose  flowers  for  your  break- 
fast table,  papa  '?  It  is  not  far  to  Convent  Garden." 

"  Take  Jane  with  you,  then." 

"Oh  yes." 

So  that  was  settled  ;  and  he  went  upstairs  with  her  to 
see  that  her  little  silver  reading-lamp  was  properly  lit;  and 
then  he  bade  her  the  Inst  real  good-night.  When  he  returned 
to  the  sitting-room  for  his  hat  and  coat  there  was  a  pleased 
and  contented  look  on  his  face. 

"Poor  Yolande!  "  he  was  thinking;  "  she  is  more  shut 
up  here  than  in  the  country ;  but  she  will  soon  have  the 
liberty  of  Oatlands  Park  again." 

He  had  just  put  on  his  coat  and  hat,  and  was  giving  a 
last  look  round  the  room,  to  see  if  there  was  anything  he 
ought  to  take  with  him,  when  there  was  a  loud,  sharp  crash 
at  the  window.  A  hundred  splinters  of  glass  fell  on  to  the 
floor ;  a  stone  rolled  over  and  over  to  the  fireplace.  J  fe 
seemed  bewildered  only  for  a  second  ;  and  perhaps  it  was 
the  startling  sound  that  had  made  his  face  grow  suddenly 
of  a  deadly  pallor;  the  next  second — noiselessly  and  quickly 
— he  had  stolen  from  the  room,  and  was  hurriedly  descend- 
ing the  stair  to  the  hall  of  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SHADOW    BEHIND. 

THE  head  waiter  was  in  the  hall,  alone,  and  staring  out 
through  the  glass  door.  When  he  heard  some  one  behind 
him  he  turned  quickly,  and  there  was  a  vague  alarm  in  his 
fee 

"  The — the  lady,  sir,  has  been  here  again." 
Mr.   Winterbourne  paid  no  heed  to  him,  passed  him 
hastily,  and    went  out.     The   lamplight  showed  a  figure 
standing  there  on  the  pavement — the  figure  of  a  tall  woman, 
dark  and  pale,  who  had  a  strange,  dazed  look  in  her  eyes. 


10  YOLANDE. 

*'  I  thought  Fd  bring  you  out !  "  she  said  tauntingly,  and 
with  a  slight  laugh. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  he  said,  quickly,  and  under  his 
breath.  "Have  you  no  shame,  woman?  Come  away. 
Tell  me  what  you  want." 

"  You  know  what  I  want,"  she  said  sullenly.  "  I  want 
no  more  lies."  Then  an  angrier  light  blazed  up  in  the  im- 
ve,  emaciated  face.  u  Who  has  driven  me  to  it,  if  I 
have  to  break  a  window  ?  I  want  no  more  lies  and  hidings. 
I  \v:mt  you  to  keep  your  promise ;  and  if  I  hare  to  break 
every  window  in  the  House  of  Commons,  I  will  let  every- 
body know.  Whose  fault  is  it?  " 

But  her  anger  seemed  to  die   away  as  rapidly  as  it  had 
arisen.     A  dull,  vague,  absent  look  returned  to  her  face. 
"  It  is  not  my  fault." 

"  What  madness  hare  you  got  hold  of  now  ?  "  he  said, 
in  the  same  low  and  nervous  voice;  and  all  his  anxiety 
seemed  to  be  to  get  her  away  from  the  hotel.  "  Come 
along  and  tell  me  what  you  want.  You  want  me  to  keep 

••oinise — to  you,  in  this  condition?" 
44  It  is  not  my  fault,"  she  repeated,  in  a  listless  kind  of 
:  and  now  she   was   quite  obediently   and   peaceably 
following  him,  and  he   was   walking  toward  Piccadilly,  his 

bent  down. 

4-  I  suppose  I  can   guess  who  sent  you,"  he  said,  watch- 

irrowly.     "  I  suppose  it  was   not  for  nothing  you 

to  make  an  exhibition  of  yourself  in  the  public  streets. 

:i-ked  you  to  go  and  get  some  money?  " 

Thi  !  to  put  a  new  idea  into  her  head  ;  perhaps 

ii.i'l  IMMMI  his  intent. 

••  Y.  -.     I  will   take  some  money  if  you  like,"  she  said, 

tly.     "They    are    my    only   friends    now — my    only 

have  been  kind  to  me :  they  don't  cheat  me 

.ii.l  promises;  they  don't  put  me  off  and  turn  me 

when  I    ask  for  them.     Yes,  I  will   take   them  some 

Ami  tli-  1 — a  short,  triumphant  laugh. 

way  to  bring  some   one   out,"  she 
y  to  herself. 

had  reached  the  corner  of  Piccadilly, 
i    cab    happened   to   bo   passing,    he 
i"  door.     She  made  no  re- 
ady to  do  anything  he  wished. 
some  money.     I  will  pay  the  driver." 


YOLANDE.  11 

She  got  into  the  cab  quite  submissively  and  the  man  was 
given  the  address,  and  paid.  Then  the  vehicle  was  driver 
off,  and  he  was  left  standing  on  the  pavement,  still  some- 
what bewildered,  and  not  conscious  how  his  hands  were 
trembling. 

He  stood  uncertain  only  for  a  second  or  so ;  then  he 
walked  rapidly  back  to  the  hotel. 

»'  Has  Miss  Winterbourne's  maid  gone  to  bed  yet  ?  "  he 
asked  of  the  landlady. 

"  Oh  no,  sir  ;  I  should  think  not  sir,"  the  buxom  person 
answered  :  she  did  not  observe  that  his  face  was  pale  and 
his  eyes  nervous. 

"'Will  you  please  tell  her,  then,  that  we  shall  be  going 
down  to  Oatlands  Park  again  to-morrow  morning?  She 
must  have  everything  ready,  but  she  is  not  to  disturb  Miss 
Winterbourne  to-night." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

Then  he  went  into  the  coffee-room,  and  found  the  head 
waiter. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he  (with  his  eyes  averted)  ;  "  I  sup- 
pose you  can  get  a  man  to  put  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  window 
of  our  sitting-room — the  first  thing  in  the  morning  ?  There 
lias  been  some  accident,  I  suppose.  You  can  have  it  done 
before  Miss  Winterbourne  comes  down,  I  mean  ?  " 

He  slipped  a  sovereign  into  the  waiter's  hand. 

"  I  think  so,  sir.     Oh  yes,  eir." 

14  You  must  try  to  have  it  done  before  Miss  Winter- 
bourne  comes  down." 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  apparently  listening  if  there  was 
any  sound  upstairs ;  and  then  he  opened  the  door  again 
and  went  out.  Very  slowly  he  walked  away  through  the 
lamp-lit  streets,  seeing  absolutely  nothing  of  the  passers-by, 
or  of  the  rattling  cabs  and  carriages :  and  although  he  bent 
his  steps  Westminister-ward,  it  was  certainly  not  the  affairs 
of  the  nation  that  had  hold  of  his  mind.  Rather  he  was 
thinking  of  that  beautiful  fair  young  life — that  young  life 
so  carefully  and  tenderly  cherished  and  guarded,  and  all 
unconscious  of  this  terrible  black  shadow  behind  it.  The 
irony  of  it !  It  was  this  very  night  that  Yolande  had 
chosen  to  reveal  to  him  her  secret  hopes  and  ambition  :  she 
was  to  be  always  with  him  :  she  was  to  be  "  indispensable  "  ; 
the  days  of  her  banishment  were  to  be  now  left  behind  ;  and 
these  two,  father  and  daughter,  were  to  be  inseparable  com- 
panions henceforth  and  forever.  And  his  reply  ?  As  he 


12  YOLANDE. 

walked  along  the  ha^f-deserted  pavements,  anxiously  revolv- 
ing many  tilings,  and  dreaming  many  dreams  about  what  the 
fin  ure  might  have  in  store  for  her,  and  regarding  the  trouble 
and  terrible  care  that  haunted  his  own  life,  the  final  sum- 
ming up  of  all  his  doubts  and  fears  resolved  itself  into  this  : 
If  ciily  Yolande  were  married  !  The  irony  of  it!  She  had 
U -sought  him,  out  of  her  love  for  him,  and  out  of  her  grati- 
ior  his  watchful  and  unceasing  care  of  her,  that  she 
should  be  admitted  into  a  closer  companionship  ;  that  she 
>hould  become  his  constant  attendant,  and  associate,  and 
friend ;  and  his  answer  was  to  propose  to  hand  her  over  to 
another  guardianship  altogether — the  guardianship  of  a 
nt  ranger.  If  only  Yolande  were  married ! 

The   light  was  burning  on  the  clock  tower,  and  so  he 
knew  the  House  was  still  sitting;  but  he  had  no  longer  any 
intention  of  joining  in  any  debate  that  might  be  going  for- 
ward.    When  he  passed  into  the  House   (and  more  than 
he   seemed  to  wish  to  avoid  the  eyes  of  strangers)  it 
was  to  seek  out  his  friend  John  Shortlands,  whose  rough 
common-sense  and  blunt  counsel  had  before  now  stood  him 
-d   Mead  and  served  to  brace  up  his  unstrung  nerves. 
•all,  corpulent,  big-headed  iron-master — who  also  rep- 
ted  a  northern  constituency — he  at  length  found  in  the 
Ling-room,  with   two   or  three  companions,  who  were 
i  round  a  small  table,  and  busy  with  cigars  and  brandy 
"la.     Winterbourne  touched  his  friend  lightly  on  the 

111  O         • 

•hoaJ< 

:i  you  come  outside  for  a  minute?  " 
UA11  right." 

I    beautiful,  clear,  mild  night,  and  seated  on  the 

benches  on  the  Terrace  there  were  Several  groups  of  people 

—among  them  two  or  three  ladies,  who  had  no  doubt  been 

the  stuffy   Chamber  to  have  tea   or  lemonade 

•Mem  in  the  open,  the  while  they  chatted  with  their 

•i  regarded  the  silent,  dark  river  and  the  lights  of 

and    Westminster  Bridge.     As  Winter- 

i  them,  he  could   not  but  think  of  Yolande's 

•  had  never  even  once   been  in  the  House 

1  re,  no  doubt,  the  daughters  of  wives 

:   why   should  not  Yolande  also   b« 

It  would  have  been  pleasant  for  him  to  come 

to   her— pleasanter  than    listening  to  a  dull  de- 

•il«l   Vol.-indc  have  wondered  at  the  strange  night 

i    Mark  nver,  all    (juiverinir   with'    golden 


YOLANDE.  13 

reflections  ;  the  lights  on  the  bridge  ;  the  shadowy  grandeur 
of  this  great  building  reaching  far  overhead  into  the  starlit 
skies?  Others  were  there;  why  not  she? 

The  Terrace  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  at  night  a 
somewhat  dusky  promenade,  when  there  does  not  happen 
to  be  moonlight ;  but  John  Shortlands  had  sharp  eyes  ;  and 
he  instantly  guessed  from  his  friend's  manner  that  something 
had  happened. 

"  More  trouble?  "  said  he,  regarding  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other.  "  Well,  I  don't  mind — I  don't 
mind,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  It  is  no  new  thing." 

But  he  sighed,  in  spite  of  his  resigned  way  of  speech. 

"  I  have  told  you  all  along,  Winterbourne,  that  you 
brought  it  on  yourself.  You  should  ha'  taken  the  bull  by 
the  horns." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  talk  of  it — never  mind  that  now,"  he 
said,  impatiently.  "  It  is  about  Yolande  I  want  to  speak 
to  you." 

44  Yes?" 

Then  he  hesitated.  In  fact,  his  lips  trembled  for  the 
briefest  part  of  a  second. 

"You  won't  guess  what  I  am  anxious  for  now,"  he  said, 
with  a  sort  of  uncertain  laugh.  "  You  wouldn't  guess  it  in 
a  month,  Shortlands.  lam  anxious  to  see  Yolande  married." 

"  Faith,  that  needn't  trouble  you,"  said  the  big  iron- 
master, bluntly.  "  There'll  be  no  difficulty  about  that. 
Yolande  has  grown  into  a  thundering  handsome  girl.  And 
they  say,"  he  added,  jocosely,  "  that  her  father  is  pretty 
well  off." 

They  were  walking  up  and  down  slowly;  Mr.  Winter 
bourne's  face  absent  and  hopeless  at  times,  at  times  almost 
piteous,  and  again  lightening  up  as  he  thought  of  some 
brighter  future  *for  his  daughter. 

u  She  can  not  remain  any  longer  at  school,"  he  said  at 
length,  "  and  I  don't  like  leaving  her  by  herself  at  Oatlands 
Park  or  any  similar  place.  Poor  child !  Do  you  know 
what  her  own  plans  are  ?  She  wants  to  be  my  private 
secretary.  She  wants  to  share  the  life  that  I  have  been  lead- 
ing  all  these  years." 

"  And  so  she  might  have  done,  my  good  fellow,  if  there 
had  been  any  common-sense  among  the  lot  o'ye." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  speak  of  that  now,"  the  other  repeated, 
with  a  sort  of  nervous  fretfulness.  '*  But  indeed  it  is  hard 
on  the  poor  girl.  She  seems  to  have  been  thinking  seri- 


14  YOLANDE. 

ously  about  it.  And  she  and  I  have  been  pretty  close  com- 
panions, one  way  or  another,  of  late  years.  Well,  if  I 
could  only  see  her  safely  married  and  settled — perhaps 
living  in  the  country,  where  I  could  run  down  fora  day  or 
fj,, — her  name  not  mine — perhaps  with  a  young  family 
•••upy  her  and  make  her  happy — well,  then,  I  think 
I  should  be  able  to  put  up  with  the  loss  of  my  pri- 
senvtary.  I  wonder  what  she  will  say  when  I 
pm pose  it.  She  will  be  disappointed.  Perhaps  she  will 
think  I  don't  care  for  her — when  there  is  just  not  another 
creature  in  the  world  I  do  care  for;  she  may  think  it  cruel 
and  unnatural." 

••  Xonsense,  nonsense,  man.  Of  course  a  girl  like 
Yolande  will  get  married.  Your  private  secretary!  How 
lon«.r  would  it  last  ?  Does  she  look  like  the  sort  of  girl  who 
ought  to  be  smothered  up  in  correspondence  or  listening  to 
debates?  And  if  you're  in  such  a  mighty  hurry  to  get  rid 
of  her — if  you  want  to  get  her  married  at  once — I'll  tell  you 
and  sure  way — send  her  for  a  voyage  on  board  a  P. 
and  O.  .-learner." 

But  this  was  just  somewhat  too  blunt;  and  Yolande's 
father  said,  angrily, — 

"I  don't  want  to  get  rid  of  her.     And  I  am  not  likely 

to  send  her  anywhere.  Hitherto  we  have  travelled  together, 

and  \ve  have  found  it  answer  well   enough,  I  can  tell  you. 

<'le  isn't  a  bale  of  goods,  to  be  disposed  of  to  the  first 

•r.     If  it  comes  to  that,  perhaps  she  will  not  marry  any 

M  P'-rhaps,"  said  the  other,  calmly. 

"  I    don't   know  that  I  may  not   throw   Slagpool    over 

and  quit,    the   country   altogether,"    he  exclaimed,  with  a 

morn.  •  cklessness,      "Why  shouldn't   I?     Yolande 

travelling.     She  has  been  four  times  across  the 

Atlru  She  is  the  best  companion  I    know;  I  tell 

t  know  a  better  companion.     And  I  am   sick  of 

8  going  on  here."     (He  nodded  in  the  direc- 

<  -     .-rnment?    They  don't  govern  ; 

A  Parliamentary  victory  is  all  they  think  about, 

•ing  to  the  mischief  all  the  time.     No 

i'ir  majority,  and  if  they  can  pose  before 

moral   and  exemplary  government 

1  wonder  they  don't  give  up  Gibraltar 

to  Spain,  an.i    h.m.i   ,,Ver  Malta  to  Italy;  and  then  they 

ought  to  let  Ireland  ^o  because  she  wants  to  go;  and  cer- 


YOLANDE.  15 

tainly  they  ought  to  yield  up  India,  for  India  was  stolen  ; 
and  then  they  might  reduce  the  army  and  the  navy,  to  set 
an  example  of  disarmament,  so  that  at  last  the  world  might 
sc-e  a  spectacle — a  nation  permitted  to  exist  by  other  na- 
tions because  of  its  uprightness  and  its  noble  sentiments. 
Well,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  Yolande,  except  that  I 
think  she  and  I  could  get  on  very  well  even  if  we  left  Eng- 
land to  pursue  its  course  of  high  morality.  We  could  look 
on — and  laugh,  as  the  rest  of  the  world  are  doing." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Shortlands,  who  had  listened 
to  all  this  high  treason  with  calmness,  "  you  could  no  more 
get  on  without  the  excitement  of  worrying  the  Govern- 
ment than  without  meat  and  drink.  What  would  it 
come  to  ?  You  would  be  in  Colorado,  let  us  say,  and 
some  young  fellow  in  Denver,  corne  in  from  the  'plains, 
would  suddenly  discover  that  Yolande  would  be  an  adorn- 
ing feature  for  his  ranch,  and  she  would  discover  that  he 
was  the  handsomest  young  gentleman  she  ever  saw,  and 
then  where  would  you  be  ?  You  wouldn't  be  much  good 
at  a  ranch.  The  morning  papers  would  look  tremendously 
empty  without  the  usual  protest  against  the  honorable 
member  for  Slagpool  so  grossly  misrepresenting  the  ac- 
tion of  the  Government.  My  good  fellow,  we  can't  do 
without  you  in  the  House  ;  we  might  as  well  try  to  do  with- 
out the  Speaker." 

For  a  few  seconds  they  walked  up  and  down  in  silence; 
at  last  Winterbourne  said,  with  a  sigh, — 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  may  happen  ;  but  in  the 
meantime  I  think  I  shall  take  Yolande  away  for  another 
long  trip  somewhere — " 

""Again?     Already?" 

"I  don't  care  where  ;  but  the  moment  I  find  myself  on 
the  deck  of  a  ship,  and  irolande  beside  me,  then  I  feel  as  if 
all  care  had  dropped  away  from  me.  I  feel  safe;  I  can 
breathe  freely.  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  meant  to  ask  if  you 
knew  anything  of  a  Colonel  Graham?  You  have  been  so 
often  to  Scotland  shooting.  I  thought  you  might  know." 

'•  But  there  are  so  many  Grahams." 

"  Inverstroy,  I  think,  is  the  name  of  his  place." 

"  Oh,  that  Graham.  Yes,  I  should  think  so — a  lucky 
beggar.  Inverstroy  fell  plump  into  his  hands  some  three 
or  four  years  ago,  quite  unexpectedly — one  of  the  finest 
estates  in  Inverness-shire.  I  don't  think  India  will  see  him 
again." 


1   ,  YOLANDE. 

"  His  wife  seems  a  nice  sort  of  woman,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne,  with  the  slightest  touch  of  interrogation. 

"  I  don't  know  her.  She  is  his  second  wife.  She  is  a 
daughter  of  Lord  Lynn." 

**  They  are  down  at  Oatlands  just  now.  Yolnnde  has 
made  their  acquaintance,  and  they  have  been  very  kind  to 
her.  Well,  this  Colonel  Graham  was  saying  the  other 
evening  that  he  felt  as  though  he  had  been  long  enough  in 
the  old  country,  and  would  like  to  take  a  P.  and  O.  trip 
as  Malta,  or  Suez,  or  Aden,  just  to  renew  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  old  route.  In  fact,  they  proposed  that 
Y olande  and  I  should  join  them." 

"The  very  thing!  "  said  John  Shortlands,  facetiously. 
"  What  did  I  say  ?  A  P.  and  O.  voyage  will  marry  off 
anybody  who  is  willing  to  marry." 

"  I  meant  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the  other,  some- 
what out  of  temper  ;  "  Yolande  may  not  marry  at  all.  If  I 
went  with  these  friends,  of  hers,  it  would  not  be  'to  get 
rid  of  her/  as  you  say." 

••  My  dear  fellow,  don't  quarrel    with  me,"    said    his 

friend,  with   more  consideration  than   was  habitual  with 

him.     "I  really  understand  your  position  very  well.     You 

to  see  Yolande  married  and  settled  in  life  and  re- 

1   from — from   certain  possibilities.     But    you  don't 

like-  the  sacrifice,  and  I   don't  wonder  at  that ;  I   admit  it 

will  be  rather  rough  on   you.     But  it   is  the  way  of   the 

world  :    other  people's  daughters  get    married.      Indeed, 

WJnterboarne,  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  both  of  you. 

V"ii  would  have   less   anxiety.     And   I  hope  she'll  find  a 

:  fellow  who   is  worthy  of  her ;  for  she  is  a  thunder- 

•  >od    jrirl :  that's    what  I  think :  and  whoever  he   is, 

a  prize,  though  I  don't  imagine  you  will  be  over 

-ed  toward  him,  old  chap." 

uide  is  happy,  that  will  be  enough  for  me,"  said 

ntly,  as  Big   Ben  overhead  began  to  toll  the 

the  Ten-arc  was  quite  deserted:  and  after 

further  chat  (Mr.  Winterbournw  had  lost  much 

now  and  of  course  all  his   talking   wa>? 

and  h«T  ways,  and  her  liking  for  travel,  and 

rid   of  'her   half-French  accent,  and   so 

nird  into   the    House,  where  they  separated, 

ine  his  seat  below   the  gangway  on  the 

:  -hn    Sliortlands  depositing  his  inagnifi- 

bulk  MI  i.m.  of  th«-  Opposition  benches. 


VOLANDh.  17 

There  was  a  general  hum  of  conversation.  There  was 
also,  as  presently  appeared,  some  laborious  discourse  going 
forward  on  the  part  of  a  handsome-looking  elderly  gentle- 
man— a  gentleman  who,  down  in  the  country, 'w.is  known 
to  be  everything  that  an  Englishman  could  wish  to  be  :  an 
efficient  magistrate,  a  plucky  rider  to  hounds,  an  admirable 
husband  and  father,  and  a  firm  believer  in  the  Articles  of  the 
Church  of  England.  Unhappily,  alas  !  he  had  acquired  some 
other  beliefs.  "He  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  he  was  an  ora- 
tor ;and  as  he  honestly  did  believe  that  talking  was  of  value 
to  the  state,  that  it  was  a  builder  tip  and  maintainer  of  empire, 
he  was  now  most  seriously  engaged  in  clothing  some  rather 
familiar  ideas  in  long  and  Latinized  phrases,  the  while  the 
House  murmured  to  itself  about  its  own  affairs,  and  the 
Speaker  gazed  blankly  into  space,  and  the  reporters  in  the 
gallery  thought  of  their  courting  days,  or  of  their  wives  and 
children,  or  of  their  supper,  and  wondered  when  they  were 
to  get  home  to  bed.  The  speech  had  a  half-somnolent  effect ; 
and  those  who  were  so  inclined  had  an  excellent  opportunity 
for  the  dreaming  of  dreams. 

What  dreams,  then,  were  likely  to  visit  the  brain  of  the 
member  for  Siagpool,  as  he  sat  there  with  his  eyes  distraught  ? 
His  getting  up  some  fateful  evening  to  move  a  vote  of  want 
of  confidence  in  the  Government?  His  appearance  on  the 
platform  of  the  Siagpool  Mechanics'  Institute,  with  the  great 
mass  of  people  rising  and  cheering  and  waving  their  hand- 
kerchiefs ?  Or  perhaps  some  day — for  who  could  tell  what 
changes  the  years  might  bring — his  taking  his  place  on  the 
Treasury  Bench  there  ? 

He  had  got  hold  of  a  blue-book.  It  was  the  Report  of 
a  RoyaJ  Commission  ;  but  of  course  all  the  cover  of  the  folio 
volume  was  not  printed  over — there  were  blank  sp;u%es. 
And  so,  while  those  laborious  and  ponderous  sentences  were 
being  poured  out  to  inattentive  ears,  the  member  for  Slag- 
pool  began  idly  and  yet  thoughtfully  to  pencil  certain  letters 
up  at  one  corner  of  the  blue  cover.  He  was  a  long  time 
about  it ;  perhaps  he  saw  pictures  as  he  slowly  and  contem- 
platively formed  each  letter;  perhaps  no  one  but  himself 
could  have  made  out  what  the  uncertain  pencilling  meant. 
But  it  was  not  of  politics  he  was  thinking.  The  letters  that 
he  had  faintly  pencilled  there — that  lit-  was  still  wistfully 
regarding  as  though  they  could  show  him  things  far  away 
— formed  the  word  YOLANUE.  It  \\-I\F  like  a  lover. 


YOLANDE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PREPARATIONS   FOB  FLIGHT. 

NEXT  morning  his  nervous  anxiety  to  get  Yolande 
away  at  once  out  of  London  was  almost  pitiful  to  witness, 
though  he  strove  as  well  as  he  could  to  conceal  it  from  her. 
He  had  a  hundred  excuses.  Oatlands  was  becoming  very 
pretty  at  that  time  of  the  year.  There  was  Httle  of  impor- 
tance going  on  in  the  House.  London  was  not  good  for 
the  roses  in  her  cheeks.  He  himself  would  be  glad  of  a 
breather  up  St.  George's  Hill,  or  a  quiet  stroll  along  to 
Chertsey.  And  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

Yolande  was  greatly  disappointed.  She  had  been  secretly 
nursing  the  hope  that  at  last  she  might  be  allowed  to  remain 
in  London,  in  some  capacity  or  another,  as  the  constant 
companion  of  her  father.     She  had  enough  sense  to  see  that 
the  time  consumed  in  his  continually  coming  to  stay  with 
her  in  the  country  must  be  a  serious  thing  for  a  man  in 
public  life.     She  was  in  a  dim  sort  of  way  afraid  that  these 
visits  might  become  irksome  to  him,  even  although  he  him- 
self should  not  be  aware  of  it.     Then  she  had  her  ambitions 
She  had  a  vague  impression  that  the  country  at  large 
did  not  quite  understand   and   appreciate  her  father;  that 
tin-  ]>< -ople  did  not  know  him  as  she  knew  him.    How  could 
if  lie  were  to  be  forever  forsaking  his  public  duties  in 
to   gad  about  with  a  girl  just  left   school?      Never 
'  ,  Yolande  was  convinced,  had  the  nation  such  urgent 
of  his  services.     There    were    a   great   many  things 
wrong  which  he  could  put  right;  of  that  she  had  no  man- 
f  doubt.      The  Government  was  making  a  tyrannical 
.ajority  to  go  their  own  way,  not  heeding  the 
and    protest s     of     independent     members;    this 
^i  many  other  things  ought  to  be  attended  to.     And 
-uch  a  time,  and  just    when   she  had   revealed  to 
'  aspiration  that   she    might   perhaps    become 
:«•». -try,  that  he  must  needs  tell   her  to   pack 
ujs  ami  insist  on  quitting  London  with  her.    Yolande  could 
not  nndarsUnd  it:  l,ut  she  was  a  biddable  and  obedient  kind 


YOLANDE.  19 

of  creature  ;  and  so  she  took  her  place  in  the  four-wheeled 
cab  without  any  word  of  complaint. 

And  yet,  when  once  they  were  really  on  their  way 
from  London — when  the  railway-carriage  was  fairly  out  of 
the  station — her  father's  manner  seemed  to  gain  so  much 
in  cheerfulness  that  she  could  hardly  be  sorry  they  had  left. 
She  had  not  noticed  that  he  had  been  more  anxious  and 
nervous  that  morning  than  usual;  but  she  could  not  fail  to 
remark  how  much  brighter  his  look  was  now  they  were  out 
in  the  clearer  air.  And  when  Yolande  saw  her  father's 
eyes  light  up  like  this — as  they  did  occasionally — she  was 
apt  to  forget  about  the  injury  that  was  being  done  to  the 
affairs  of  the  empire.  They  had  been  much  together,  these 
two ;  and  anything  appertaining  to  him  was  of  keen 
interest  to  her;  whereas  the  country  at  large  was  some- 
thing of  an  abstraction  ;  and  the  mechanical  majority  of 
the  Government — for  which  she  had  a  certain  measure  of 
contempt — little  more  than  a  name. 

"  Yolande,"  said  he  (they  had  the  compartment  to 
themselves),  "  I  had  a  talk  with  John  Shortlands  last 
night." 

"  Yes,  papa  ?  " 

"  And  if  England  slept  well  from  that  time  until  this 
morning  it  was  because  she  little  knew  the  fate  in  store  for 
her.  Think  of  this,  child  :  I  have  threatened  to  throw  up 
my  place  in  Parliament  altogether,  letting  the  country  go 
to  the  mischief  if  it  liked  ;  and  then  the  arrangement  would 
be  that  you  and  I,  Yolande — now  just  consider  this — that 
you  and  I  should  start  away  together  and  roam  all  over 
the  world,  looking  at  everything,  and  amusing  ourselves, 
going  jnst  where  we  liked,  no  one  to  interfere  with  us — you 
and  I  all  by  ourselves — now,  Yolande  !  "  * 

She  had  clasped  her  hands  with  a  quick  delight. 

"  Oh,  papa,  that  would  indeed — " 

But  she  stopped;  and  instantly  her  face  grew  grave 
again. 

"  Oil  no,"  she  said,  "  no  ;  it  would  not  do.  Last  night, 
papa,  you  were  reproachful  of  me — " 

"  '  Reproachful  of  me  ! '  "  he  repeated,  mockingly. 

"Reproachful  to  me? "she  said,  with  inquiring  eyes. 
But  he  himself  was  not  ready  with  the  correct  phrase ;  and 
so  she  went  on:  "Last  night  you  were  reproachful  that  1 
had  taken  up  so  much  of  your  time  ;  and  though  it  was  all 
in  fun,  still  it  was  true ;  and  now  I  am  no  longer  a  school 


20  YOLANDE. 

girl;  and  I  wish  to  help  you  if  I  can,  and  not  be  merely 
me  and  an  incumbrance — " 

"You  are  so  much  of  an  incumbrauce,  Yolande  !  "  he 
said,  with  a  laugh. 

••  Yes,"  she  said,  gravely,  "you  would  tire  of  me  if  we 
went  away  like  that.  In  time  you  would  tire.  One  would 
tire  of  always  being  amused.  All  the  people  that  we  see 
have  work  to  do  ;  and  some  day — it  might  be  a  long  time 
— but  Home  day  you  would  think  of  Parliament,  and  you 
would  think  you  had  given  it  up  for  me — " 

"  Don't  make  such  a  mistake  !  "  said  he.  "  Do  not 
consider  yourself  of  such  importance,  miss.  If  I  threw 
over  SI agpool,  and  started  as  a  Wandering  Jew — I  mean 
we  should  be  two  Wandering  Jews,  you  know,  Yolande — • 
it  would  be  quite  as  much  on  my  own  account  as  yours — " 

M  You  would  become  tired  of  being  amused.  You 
could  not  always  travel,"  she  said.  She  put  her  hand  on 
his  hand.  "Ah,  I  see  what  it  is,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "  You  are  concealing.  That  is  your  kindness,  papa. 
You  think  I  am  too  much  alone  ;  it  is  not  enough  that  you 
sacrifice  to-day,  to-morrow,  next  day,  to  me;  you  wish  to 
make  a  sacrifice  altogether ;  and  you  pretend  you  are  tired 
•lilies.  But  you  can  not  make  me  blind  to  it.  I  see — 
oh,  quite  clearly  I  can  see  through  your  pretence !  " 

lie  was  scarcely  listening  to  her  now. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  absently,  "  it  is  one  of  those  fine 
things  that  are  too  fine  ever  to  become  true.  Fancy  now, 
the  two  of  us  just  wandering  away  wherever  we  pleased, 
revtiuM-  a  day,  a  week,  a  month,  when  we  came  to  some 
b'-autittil  place — all  by  ourselves  in  the  wide  world!  " 

M  I  have  often  noticed  that,  papa,"  she  said — "that  you 
'<>  talk  about  bring  away,  about  being  remote — " 

••  I  Jut  we  should  not  be  like  the  Wandering  Jew  in  one 
iid,  almost  to  himself.  "The  years  would 
There  would  be  a  difference.  Something  might 
happen  to  one  of  us." 

And  then,  apparently,  a  new  suggestion  entered  hi* 
wind.  He  glanced  at  the  girl  opposite  him,  timidly  and 

'  "iande,"  said   he,  "I — I  wonder  now — I  suppose  at 

-well,  have  you  ever  thought  of  getting  married?" 

i  up  at  him    with    IHT   clear,  frank    eyes,  and 

startled  like    that  her   mouth  had  the   slight 


YOLANDE.  lil 

pathetic  droop,  already  noticed,  that  made  her  face  so  sen- 
sitive and  charming. 

"  Why,  hundreds  and  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  times  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  still  with  the  soft  clear  eyes  wondering. 

His  eyes  were  turned  away.  He  appeared  to  attach  no 
importance  to  this  confession. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  when  1  say  I  have  thought 
hundreds  of  times  of  getting  married,  it  is  about  not  get- 
ting married  that  I  mean.  No.  That  is  my  resolution. 
Oh,  many  a  time  I  have  said  that  to  myself.  I  shall  not 
marry — never — no  one." 

In  spite  of  himself  his  face  suddenly  brightened  up,  and 
it  was  quite  cheerfully  that  he  went  on  to  say : — 

"  Oh,  but,  Yolande,  that  is  absurd.  Of  course  you  will 
marry.  Of  course  you  must  marry. 

"  When  you  put  me  away,  papa." 

"  When  I  put  you  away,"  he  repeated,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  quite  simply.  "  That  was  what 
Madame  used  to  say.  She  used  to  say,  '  If  your  papa  mar- 
ries again,  that  is  what  you  must  expect.  It  will  be  better 
for  you  to  leave  the  house.  But  your  papa  is  rich ;  you 
will  have  a  good  portion  ;  then  you  will  find  some  one  to 
marry  you,  and  give  you  also  an  establishment.'  'Very 
well,'  I  said  ;  *  but  that  is  going  too  far,  Madame,  and  until 
my  papa  tells  me  to  go  away  from  him  I  shall  not  go  away, 
and  there  is  not  any  necessity  that  I  shall  marry  any  one.'  " 

"I  wish  Madame  had  minded  her  own  affairs,"  Mr. 
Winterbourne  said,  angrily.  "  I  am  not  likely  to  marry 
again.  I  shall  not  marry  again.  Put  that  out  of  your  head, 
Yolande,  at  once  and  for  always.  But  as  for  you — well, 
don't  you  see,  child,  I — I  can't  live  forever,  and  you  have 
got  no  very  near  relatives,  and,  besides,  living  with  rela- 
tives isn't  always  the  pleasantest  of  things,  and  I  should  like 
to  see  your  future  quite  settled,  I  should  like  to  know  that — 
that—" 

"  My  future  !  "  Yolande  said,  with  a  light  laugh.  "  No, 
I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  future  :  is  not  the  present 
very  good  ?  Look  :  here  I  am,  I  have  you ;  we  are  going 
out  together  to  have  walks,  rides,  boating — is  it  not  enough  ? 
Do  I  want  any  stranger  to  come  in  to  interfere  ?  No ; 
some  day  you  will  say,  'Yolande,  you  worry  me.  You 
stop  my  work.  Now  I  am  going  to  attend  to  Parliament, 
and  you  have  got  to  marry,  and  go  off,  and  not  worry  me.' 
Very  well.  It  is  enough.  What  I  shall  say  is  this  :  Papa, 


J>2 


YOLANDE. 


choose  for  me.  What  do  I  know?  I  do  not  know,  and  1 
do  not  care.  Only  a  few  things  are  necessary — are  quite 
entirely  necessary.  He  must  "not  talk  all  day  long  about 
horses.  And  he  must  be  in  Parliament.  And  he  must  be 

•  MI  your  side  in  Parliament.     How  much  is  that — three  ? — 
three  qualifications.     That  is  all." 

Indeed,  he  found  it  was  no  use  trying  to  talk  to  her 
seriously  about  this  matter.  She  laughed  it  aside.  She 

•  lid  not  believe  there  was  any  fear  about  her  future.     She 
\vas  well  content  with  the  world  as  it  existed  :  was  not  the 
day  fine  enough,  and  Weybridge,  and  Chertsey,  and  Ksher 
and  Moulsey  all  awaiting  them  ?     If  her  father  would  leave 
his  Parliamentary  duties  to  look  after  themselves,  she  was 

<lved  to  make  the  most  of  the  holiday. 

"  Oh,  but  you  don't  know,"  said  he,  quite  falling  in  with 
her  mood— u  you  don't  know,  Yolande,  one  fifteenth  part 
of  what  is  in  store  for  you.  I  don't  believe  you  have  the 
faintest  idea  why  I  am  going  down  to  Oatlands  at  this 
minute." 

"  Well,  I  don't,  papa,"  she  said,  "  except  through  a  mad- 
ness of  kindness." 

"  Would  it  surprise  you  if  I  asked  Mrs.  Graham  to  take 
you  with  them  for  that  sail  to  Suez  or  Aden  ?  " 

She  threw  up  her  hands  in  affright. 

"Alone?"  she  exclaimed.  *'  To  go  away  alone  with 
strangers  V  " 

"  Oh  no  ;  I  should  be  going  also — of  course." 

"  But  the  time—" 

"  I  should  be  back  for  the  Budget.  Yolande,"  said  he, 
gravely,  "  I  am  convinced — I  am  seriously  convinced — that 
no  one  should  be  allowed  to  sit  in  Parliament  who  has  not 
visited  Gibraltar,  and  the  island  of  Malta,  and  such  places, 
and  seen  how  the  empire  is  held  together,  and  what  our 
foreign  jMjssrssions  are — " 

t%  It  i-  mdy  an  excuse,  papa — it  is  only  an  excuse  to  give 
me  another  holiday." 

"  Be  quiet.     I  tell  you  the  country  ought  to  compel  its 

s  to  go  out  in  batches — paying  the  expenses  of  the 

i    ones,  of  course — and   see  for  themselves  what  our 

en  and  sailors  are  doing  for  us.     I  am  certain  that  I 

no  right  to  sit  in  Parliament  until  I  have  visited  the 

'iis  of  Malta,  and  inspected  the  Suez  Canal." 

uOh.  it  it  is  absolutely  necessary,"  Yolande  said,  with 
a  similar  gravity. 


YQLANDE.  '23 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary.  I  have  long  felt  it  to  be  so. 
I  feel  it  is  a  duty  to  my  country  that  we  should  personally 
examine  Malta." 

"  Very  well,  papa,"  said  Yolande,  who  was  so  pleased  1.0 
find  her  father  in  such  good-humor  that  she  forbore  to  pro- 
test, even  though  she  Avas  vaguely  aware  that  the  confidence 
of  the  electorate  of  Slagpool  was  again  being;  abused  in 
order  that  she  should  enjoy  another  long  and  idling  voyage 
with  the  only  companion  whom  she  cared  to  have  with  her. 

The  Grahams  were  the  very  first  people  they  saw  when 
they  reached  Oatlands.  Colonel  Graham — a  tall,  stout, 
grizzled,  good-natured  looking  man — was  lying  back  in  a 
garden  seat,  smoking  a  cigar  and  reading  a  newspaper, 
while  his  wife  was  standing  close  by,  calling  to  her  baby, 
which  plump  small  person  was  vainly  trying  to  walk  to 
her,  under  the  guidance  of  an  ayah,  whose  dusky  skin  and 
silver  ornaments  and  flowing  garments  of  Indian  red  looked 
picturesque  enough  on  an  English  lawn.  Mrs.  Graham  was 
a  pretty  woman,  of  middle  height,  with  a  pale  face,  a  square 
forehead,  short  hair  inclined  to  curl,  and  dark  gray  eyes 
with  black  eyelashes  and  black  eyebrows.  But  along  with 
her  prettiness,  which  was  only  moderate,  she  had  an  ex- 
ceedingly fascinating  manner,  and  a  style  that  was  at  least 
attractive  to  men.  Women,  especially  when  they  found 
themselves  deserted,  did  not  like  her  style  ;  they  said  there 
was  rather  too  much  of  it ;  they  said  it  savored  of  the 
garrison  flirt,  and  was  obviously  an  importation  from  In- 
dia ;  and  they  thought  she  talked  too  much,  and  laughed 
too  much,  and  altogether  had  too  little  of  the  dignity  of  a 
matron.  No  doubt  they  would  have  hinted  something 
about  the  obscurity  of  her  birth  and  parentage  had  that 
been  possible.  But  it  was  not  possible,  for  everybody 
knew  that  when  Colonel  Graham  married  her,  as  his  second 
wife,  she  was  the  only  daughter  of  Lord  Lynn,  who  was  the 
thirteenth  baron  of  that  name  in  the  peerage  of  Scotland. 

Now  this  pretty,  pale-faced,  gray-eyed  woman  professed 
herself  overjoyed  when  Mr.  Winterbourne  said  there  vr  as  a 
chance  of  his  daughter  and  himself  joining  her  and  her  hus- 
band on  their  suggested  P.  and  O.  trip ;  but  the  lazy, 
good-humored  looking  soldier  glanced  up  from  his  paper  and 
said, — 

44  Look  here,  Polly,  it's  too  absurd.  What  would  peoplu 
says  ?  It's  all  very  well  for  you  and  me  :  we  are  old  Indians, 
and  don't  mind;  but  if  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  coming;  with  iw 


04  YOLAA'DE. 

—  and  yo  i.  Miss    Wfnterbourne  —  we   must   do   something 
reasonable  and    Christian-like  than  sail  out  to  Suez  or 
Aden  and  hack,  alJ  for  nothing." 

*•  But   nothing   could    suit  us  better,"   Yolande's  father 
said.      Indeed,  he  did   not  mind   where  or  why  he  went,  so 
as  he  got  away  from  England,  and  Yolande  with  him. 


"  Oh,  but  we  must  do  something,"  Colonel  Graham  said. 
"  Look  here.  When  we  were  at  Peshawur  a  young  fellow 
came  up  there  —  you  remember  young  Ismat,  Polly?  —  well, 
1  was  of  some  little  assistance  to  him  ;  arid  he  said  any  time 
we  wanted  to  see  something  of  the  Nile  I  could  have  his 
father's  dahabeeyah  —  or  rather  one  of  them,  for  his  father 
is  Governor  of  Merhadj,  and  a  bit  of  a  swell,  I  fancy.  There 
you  are  now.  That  would  be  something  to  do.  People 
wouldn't  think  we  were  idiots.  We  could  have  our  sail  all 
the  same  to  Suez,  and  see  the  old  faces  at  Gib,  and  Malta  ; 
then  we  could  have  a  skim  up  the  Nile  a  bit,  and,  by  the 
we  shall  have  it  all  to  ourselves  just  now  —  " 

"The  very  thing!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winterbourne, 
ra^-rly,  for  his  imagination  seemed  easily  captured  by  the 
suggestion  of  anything  remote.  "Nothing  could  be  more 
admirable  !  Yolande,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Y<»!  a  ride's  f.ice  was  sufficient  answer. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  in  an  awful  whisper, 
"  have  yon  got.  a  Levinge?  " 

"  A  "what  ?"  said  Yolande. 


peevishly.     " It  is  the  only 
•  iiat  the  Nile  is  tolerable.     It  is  no  longer  a  cockney 
route.     Yon  have  the  whole  place  to  yourself — at  least,  so 
Bffendi  assured  me  ;  and  if  he  has  given  me  a  wrong 
tip,  wait  i  ill  I  irct  hold  of  him  by  the  nape  of  his  Egyptian 
I     And    you    needn't  frighten    Miss  Yolande  "about 
any  of  the  other  creatures  of  darkness;  for 
you've  only  to  L"-t  her  one  of  those  shroud  things—" 
".lust  what  I  was  saying,"  his  wife  protested. 
I'1''1  eemed  greatly  pleased  about  this  project; 

"t  in  to  lunch  they  had  a  table  to   them- 
w?lvt-  secure  a  full  and   free  discussion  of  plans. 

Mrs.  Graham  talked  in  the  most  motherly  way  to  Yolande ; 
and    petted    her.      She   declared    that   those    voyages    to 


YOLANDE.  115 

America,  of  which  Yolande  had  told  her,  had  notkngof  the 
charm  and  variety  and  picturesqueness  of  the  sail  along 
the  African  shores.  Yolande  would  be  delighted  with  it; 
with  the  people  on  board  ;  with  the  ports  they  would  call 
at;  with  the  blue  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  It  was  all  a 
wonder,  as  she  described  it. 

But  she  was  a  shrewd-headed  little  woman.  Very  soon 
after  lunch  she  found  an  opportunity  of  talking  with  her 
husband  alone. 

"  I  think  Yolande  Winterbourne  prettier  and  prettier 
the  longer  I  see  her,"  she  said,  carelessly. 

"  She's  a  good-looking  girl.  You'll  have  to  look  out, 
Polly.  You  won't  have  the  whole  ship  waiting  on  you  this 
time." 

"And  very  rich — quite  an  heiress,  they  say." 

"  I  suppose  Winterbourne  is  pretty  well  off." 

"  He  liiiiiself  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  firm  now,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  1  think  not." 

"  Besides,  making  engines  is  quite  respectable.  Nobody 
could  complain  of  that." 

"  I  shouldn't,  if  it  brought  me  in  £15,000  or  £20,000  a 
year,"  her  husband  said,  grimly.  "  I'd  precious  soon  have 
Inverstronan  added  on  to  Inverstroy." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  blithely,  "  talking  about  the  North,  I 
haven't  heard  from  Archie  for  a  long  time.  I  wonder  what 
he  is  about — watching  the  nesting  of  the  grouse,  I  sup- 
pose. I  say,  Jim  I  wish  you'd  let  me  ask  him  to  go  with 
us.  It's  rather  dull  for  him  up  there  ;  my  father  isn't  easy 
to  live  with.  May  I  ask  him  ?  " 

She  spoke  very  prettily  and  pleadingly. 

"  He'll  have  to  pay  his  own  fare  to  Suez  and  back,  then," 
her  husband  answered,  rather  roughly. 

"Ohyes;  why  not?"  she  said,  with  great  innocence. 
"  I  am  sure  poor  Archie  is  always  willing  to  pay  when  he 
can,  and  I  do  wish  my  father  would  be  a  little  more  liberal. 
I  am  sure  he  might.  Every  inch  of  shooting  and  fishing 
was  let  last  year !  even  the  couple  of  hundred  yards  along 
the  river  that  Archie  always  has  had  for  himself.  I  don't 
believe  he  threw  a  fly  last  year — " 

"  He  did  on  the  Stroy,"  her  husband  said,  gloomily. 

"  That  was  because  you  were  so  awfully  good  to  him," 
said  his  wife,  in  her  sweetest  manner.  "  And  you  can  be 


oft  YOLANDE. 

awfully  good  to  people,  Jirn,  when  you  don't  let  the  black 
bear  ride  on  your  shoulders." 

Then   Mrs.  Graham,  smoothing  her  pretty  short  curls, 
and   with   much   pleasure  visible  in  the  pretty  dark  gray 
went  to  her  own  room,  and  sat  down  and   wrote  as 
follows : — 

"  DEAII  ARCHIE, — Jim's  good-nature  is  beyond  anything. 
"We  :ire  going  to  have  a  look  at  Gib,  again,  and  at  Malta, 
just  for  auld  lang  syne  ;  and  then  Jim  talks  of  taking  us  up 
the  Nile  a  bit;  and  he  says  you  ought  to  go  with  us,  and 
you  will  only  have  to  pay  your  passage  to  Suez  and  back — 
which  you  could  easily  save  out  of  your -hats  and  boots,  if 
you  would  only  be  a  little  less  extravagant,  and  get  them 
in  Inverness  instead  of  in  London.  Mr.  Winterbourne,  the 
member  for  Slagpool,  is  going  with  us,  and  he  and  Jim 
will  halve  the  expenses  of  the  Nile  voyage.  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne's  daughter  makes  up  the  party.  She  is  rather  nice, 
I  think,  but  only  a  child.  Let  me  know  at  once.  There  is 
:i  1*.  and  O.  on  the  17th;  I  think  we  shall  catch  that;  Jim 
and  the  captain  are  old  friends. 

Your  loving  sister, 

"  POLLY." 

She  folded  up  the  letter,  put  it  in  an  envelope,  and  ad- 
dressed it  to  : — 

The  Hon.  the  Master  of  Lynn, 
Lynn  Towers, 

by  Inverness,  N.  J$. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    FAREWELL    TO   ENGLAND. 

A  VOYAGE  in  a  P.  and  O.  steamer  is  so  familiar  a  matter 

to  thousands  of  English  readers  that  very  little  need  be 

ere  in  detail,  except,  indeed,  in  so  far  as  this 

ular  voy.i'_r<-  afiVrted  the  fortunes  of  these  one  or  two 

Ami  Yohmde.'s  personal   experiences  began  early. 


YOLAXDK.  'J7 

The  usual  small  crowd  of  passengers  was  assembled  in 
Liverpool  Street  Station,  hurrying,  talking,  laughing,  and 
scanning  possible  snip-companions  with  an  eager  curiosity, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them  Yolande,  for  a  wonder — her  father 
having  gone  to  look  after  some  luggage — found  herself  for 
the  moment  alone.  A  woman  came  into  this  wide,  hollow- 
resounding  station,  and  timidly  and  yet  anxiously  scanned 
the  faces  of  the  various  people  who  were  on  the  platform 
adjoining  the  special  train.  She  was  a  respectably  dressed 
person,  apparently  a  mechanic's  wife,  but  her  features  bore 
the  marks  of  recent  crying;  they  were  all  "begrutten," 
as  the  Scotch  say.  She  carried  a  small  basket.  After  an 
anxious  scrutiny — but  it  was  only  the  women  she  regarded 
— she  went  up  to  Yolnnde. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  she  said  ;  but  she  could  say 
no  more,  for  her  face  was  tremulous. 

Yolande  looked  at  her,  thought  she  was  drunk,  and 
turned  away,  rather  frightened. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss  ;  "  and  with  that  her  trembling 
hands  opened  the  basket,  which  was  filled  with  flowers. 

"No,  thank  you,  I  don't  want  any,"  said  Yolande, 
civilly.  But  there  was  something  in  the  woman's  imploring 
eyes  that  said  something  to  her.  She  was  startled,  and 
stood  still. 

"  Are — are  you  going  farther  than  Gibraltar,  miss  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Yolande,  wondering. 

There  were  tears  running  down  the  woman's  face.  For 
a  second  or  two  she  tried  to  speak,  ineffectually  ;  then  she 
said  : — 

"Two  days  out  from — from  Gibraltar — would  you  be 
so  kind,  miss,  as  to  put — these  flowers — on  the  water?  My 
little  girl  was  buried  at  sea — two  days  out — " 

"  Oh,  I  understand  you,"  said  Yolande,  quickly,  with  a 
big  lump  in  her  throat.  "Oh  yes,  I  will.  I  am  so  sorry 
for  you — " 

She  took  the  basket.  The  woman  burst  out  crying,  and 
Lid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  then  turned  to  go  away.  She 
was  so  distracted  with  her  grief  that  she  had  forgotten  even 
to  say  "  Thank  you."  At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  came  up,  hastily  and  angrily. 

"What  is  this?" 

"  Hush,  papa !  The  poor  woman  had  a  little  girl  buried 
at  sea ;  these  are  some  flowers — " 


.j<  YOLANDh. 

Yolande  went  quickly  after  her,  and  touched  her  on  the 
•boulder. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  what  was  your  daughter's  name  ?  " 

The  woman  raised  her  tear-stained  face.     "  Jane.     We 

called  her  Janie ;  she  was  only  three  years  old  ;  she  would 

been  ten  by  now.     You   won't  forget,  miss ;  it  was — • 

it   was  two  days  beyond  Gibraltar  that — that  we  buried 

l.er." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  do  you  think  I  could  forget?  "  Yolande  said  ; 
and  she  offered  her  hand.  The  woman  took  her  hand  and 
pressed  it,  and  said,  "  God  bless  you,  miss  !  I  thought  I 
could  trust  your  face ;"  then  she  hurried  away. 

Yolande  went  back  to  her  father,  who,  though  closely 
watching  her,  was  standing  with  the  Grahams  ;  and  she 
told  them  (with  her  own  eyes  a  little  bit  moist)  of  the 
m  with  which  she  had  been  intrusted;  but  neither 
she  nor  they  thought  of  asking  why,  out  of  all  the  people 
about  to  go  down  by  the  steamer  train,  this  poor  woman 
should  have  picked  out  Yolande  as  the  one  by  whom  she 
would  like  to  have  those  flowers  strewn  on  her  child's  ocean 
grave.  Perhaps  there  was  something  in  the  girl's  face  that 
assured  the  mother  that  she  was  not  likely  to  forget. 

And  at  last  the  crowd  began  to  resolve  itself  into  those 
who  were  going  and  those  who  were  remaining  behind  ;  the 
former  establishing  themselves  in  the  compartments,  the 
talking  all  the  more  eagerly  as  the  time  grew  shorter. 
And  Mrs.  Graham  was  in  despair  because  of  the  non-appear- 
ance of  her  brother. 

•  There!"  she  said  to  her  husband,  as  the  door  of  the 

ige  was  finally  locked,  and  the  train   began  to  move 

out  of  the  station,  *'  I  told  you — I  told  you  I  should  not  be 

surprised.     It  is  just  like  him — always   wanting  to  be  too 

i .     Well,  his   coolness   has  cost   him  something    this 

I  told  vou  I  should  not  at  all  be  surprised'  if  he 

•1m  train  altogether." 

••  Id-. n't  think  the  Master's  finances  are  likely  to  run  to 
,"  her  husband  said,  good-humoredly. 

too  provoking!"  exclaimed  the  pretty  young 

n    (l.ut,    with    all    lu-r   anger,    she   did   not   forget  to 

smooth  her  tightly    fitting  column  as  she  settled  into  her 

:oo  provoking!     I  left  Baby  at   home  more 

on   Vis  account  than   on  any  one  else's.     If  there   was  the 

i,   I    knew  he   would  declare  that  Baby  had 


YOLANDE.  29 

Deen  crying   all  the  night  through.     There  never  was  a 
better  baby — never  !     Now,  was  there  ever,  Jim  ?  " 

«  Well,  I  can't  answer  for  all  the  babies  that  ever  were 
in  the  world,"  her  husband  said,  in  his  easy,  good-natured 
way ;  "  but  it  is  a  good  enough  baby,  as  babies  go." 

"  It  is  the  rery  best  tempered  baby  I  ever  saw  or  heard 
Df,"  she  said,  emphatically;  and  she  turned  to  Yolande. 
*  Just  think,  dear,  of  my  leaving  Baby  in  England  for  two 
whole  months,  and  mostly  because  I  knew  my  brother  would 
complain.  And  now  he  goes  and  misses  the  train — through 
laziness,  or  indifference,  or  wanting  to  be  too  sharp — 

"  I  should  think  that  Baby  would  be  much  better  off  on 
land  than  on  board  ship,"  said  Yolande,  with  a  smile. 

"  Of  course,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  the  colonel  said. 
You're  quite  right.  A  baby  on  board  a  ship  is  a  nuisance." 

"Jim  !     You  don't  deserve — 

"And  there's  another  thing,"  continued  the  stout  and 
grizzled  soldier,  with  the  most  stolid  composure.  "  I've 
seen  it  often  on  board  ship.  I  know  what  happens.  If 
the  mother  of  the  baby  is  old  or  ugly,  it's  all  right ;  the 
baby  is  let  alone.  But  if  she's  young  and  good-looking,  it's 
wonderful  how  the  young  fellows  begin  and  pet  the  baby, 
and  feed  it  up  on  toffy  and  oranges.  What  do  they  know? 
Hang  'em,  they'd  fetch  up  pastry  from  the  saloon  and  give 
it  to  a  two-year-old.  That  ain't  good  for  a  baby." 

"  Poor  Archie  !  "  said  his  wife,  rather  inconsequently ; 
"  it  will  be  such  a  disappointment  for  him." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Colonel  Graham  ;  "  I  be- 
lieve he  has  never  heard  that  the  P.  and  O.  ships  don't  stop 
at  Southampton  now.  Never  mind,  Polly  ;  he  can  go  over- 
land, if  he  wants  to  catch  us  up  at  Cairo." 

"And  miss  the  whole  voyage  !  "  she  exclaimed,  aghast. 
"And  forfeit  his  passage  money?  Fancy  the  cost  of  the 
railway  journey  to  Brindisi!  " 

"  Well,  if  people  will  miss  trains,  they  must  pay  the 
penalty,"  her  husband  remarked,  quietly;  and  there  was  an 
end  of  that. 

At  Tilbury  there  was  the  usual  scramble  of  getting 
the  luggage  transferred  to  the  noisy  little  tender;  and  the 
natural  curiosity  with  which  every  one  was  eager  to  scan 
the  great  and  stately  vessel  which  was  to  be  their  floating 
home  for  many  a  day.  And  here  there  was  a  surprise  for 
at  least  ore  of  the  party.  When,  after  long  delays,  and 
after  a  hurried  steaming  out  into  the  river,  the  tender  was 


80  YOLANDE. 

drawing  near  the  side  of  the  huge  steamer,  of  course  all 
.vere  turned  to  the  docks  above,  where  the  picturesque 
costumes  of  the  lascar  crew  were  the  most  conspicuous 
points  of  color.  But  there  were  obviously  a  number  of 
other  people  on  board,  besides  the  dusky  crew  and  their 
English  officers. 

44  There  he  is — I  can  make  bin  out,"  observed  Colonel 
Graham. 

«'  Who  ?  "  his  wife  asked. 

"  "Why,  the  Master  of  Lynn,"  he  answered,  coolly. 
"  Well,  I  never !  "  she   exclaimed,  in   either  real  or  af- 
fected anger.     "  Sha'n't  I  give  it  to  him  !     To  think  of  his 
causing  us  all  this  disquietude  !  " 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  Polly,"  her  husband  said,  as  he  re- 
garded a  group  of  young  men  who  were  up  on  the  hurri- 
cane-deck leaning  over  the  rail  and  watching  the  approach 
of  the  tender.  "  I  wasn't  much  put  out,  was  I  ?  And  ap- 
parently he  hasn't  been,  for  he  is  smoking  a  cigar  and  chat- 
ting to — yes,  by  Jove !  it's  Jack  Douglas,  and  young  Mac- 
kenzie of  Sleat ;  oh,  there's  Ogilvy's  brother-in  law — what 
do  you  call  him  ? — the  long  fellow  who  broke  his  leg  at 
Bombay;  there's  young  Fraser,  too,  eyeglass  and  all — a 
regular  gathering  of  the  clans.  There'll  be  some  Nap  going 
among  those  boys ! " 

**  I  hope  you  won't  let  Archie  play,  then,"  his  wife  said, 
sharply.  But  she  turned  with  a  charming  little  smile  to 
Tolande.  "You  mustn't  think  my  brother  is  a  gambler,  you 
know,  dear  ;  but  really  some  of  those  young  officers  play  far 
nd  their  means,  and  Archie  is  very  popular  amongst 
them  I  am  told." 

But  by  this  time  everybody  was  scrambling  on  to  the 

paddle-boxes  of  the  tender,  and    from  thence   ascending  to 

the  deck  of  the  steamer.  The  Master  of  Lynn  was  standing 

••  gangway  awaiting  his  sister.     He  was  a  young  man 

r  or  five  and  twenty,  slim,  well  built,  wilh  a  pale  olive 

<-oin|'l«-xi»n  and  a  perfectly  clean-shaven  face ;  and  he  had 

^iiare  forehead,  the   well-marked   eyebrows,  and  the 

ml  -ray  eyes  with  the  dark  eyelashes   that  his  bister 

But  IK;  had  not  her  half-curly  hair,  for  his  was  shorn 

in  M»ldirr  fashion,  though  he  was  not  a  soldier. 

•   How  are  you,  Graham?     How  are  you,  Polly?"  said 

"  W.  11,  I  like  your  coolness!"  his  sister  said,  angrily. 
'•n-  you  not  .-it  the  station9    Why  did  you  not  tell 


YOLANDE.  3J 

ns  ?  Of  course  we  thought  you  had  missed  the  train.  1 
wish  you  would  take  the  trouble  to  let  people  know  what 
you  are  about. — Let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Winter- 
i>ourne.  Yolande  dear,  this  is  my  brother  Archie. — Mr. 
Winterbourne,  my  brother,  Mr.  Leslie. — Well,  now,  what 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself?  " 

He  had  thrown  away  his  cigar. 

"  Xot  much,"  said  he,  smiling  good-naturedly  and  taking 
some  wraps  and  things  from  her  which  her  husband  had 
selfishly  allowed  her  to  carry.  "  I  went  down  to  see  some 
fellows  at  Chatham  last  night,  and  of  course  I  stayed  there, 
and  came  over  in  the  morning.  Sorry  I  vexed  you.  You 
see,  Miss  Winterbourne,  my  sister  likes  platform  parade ; 
she  likes  to  have  people  round  her  for  half  an  hour  before 
the  train  starts  ;  :md  she  likes  to  walk  up  and  down,  for  it 
shows  off  her  figure  and  her  dress:  isn't  that  so,  Polly? 
But  you  hadn't  half  your  display  this  morning,  apparently. 
Where's  Baby  ?  Where's  Ayah  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well.  You  would  have  been  grumbling 
all  the  time  if  I  had  brought  Baby." 

"Well,"  said  he,  looking  rather  aghast,  "if  you've  left 
Baby  behind  on  my  account  I  shall  have  a  pleasant  time  of 
it.  I  don't  believe  you.  But  tell  me  the  number  of  your 
cabin,  and  I'll  take  these  tilings  down  for  you.  I'm  on  the 
spard eck,  thank  goodness!  " 

"  Miss  Winterbourne's  cabin  is  next  to  mine ;  so  you 
can  take  her  things  down  too." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Yolande,  who  was  looking  out 
for  her  luggage  (her  maid  being  in  a  hopeless  state  of  be- 
wilderment), and  who  had  nothing  in  her  hand  but  the  little 
basket.  "  I  will  take  this  down  myself  by  and  by." 

There  was  a  great  bustle  and  confusion  on  board  ;  friends 
giving  farewell  messages ;  passengers  seeking  out  their 
cabins ;  the  bare-armed  and  barefooted  lascars,  with  their 
blue  blouses  and  red  turbans,  hoisting  luggage  on  to  their 
shoulders  and  carrying  it  along  the  passages.  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  was  impatient. 

"I  hate  this — this  confusion  and  noise,"  he  snid. 

"  But,  papa,"  said  Yolande,  "  I  know  your  things  as  well 
as  my  own.  Jane  and  I  will  sec  to  them  when  they  come 
on  board.  Please  go  away  and  get  some  lunch — please ! 
Everything  will  be  quiet  in  a  little  while." 

"  I  wish  we  were  off,"  he  said,  in  the  same  impatient 
way.  "This  delay  is  quite  unnecessary.  It  is  always  the 


32  YOLANDE. 

same.   We  ought  to  have  started  before  now.     Why  doesn't 
the  captain  order  the  ship  to  be  cleared  ?  " 

"  Papa  dear,  do  go  and  get  places  at  the  table.  The 
Grahams  have  gone  below.  And  have  something  very  nice 
waiting  for  me.  See,  there  comes  your  other  portmanteau 
now ;  and  there  is  only  the  topee-box  ;  and  I  know  it  be- 
cause I  put  a  bit  of  red  silk  on  the  handle.  Papa,  do  go 
down  and  get  us  comfortable  places — I  will  come  as  soon 
as  I  have  sent  your  topee-box  to  your  cabin.  I  suppose  we 
shall  be  near  the  Grahams." 

"  Oh,  I4cnow  where  Mrs.  Graham  will  be,"  her  father 
Raid,  peevishly.  "  She  will  be  next  the  captain.  She  is  the 
sort  of  woman  who  always  sits  next  the  captain." 

"  Then  the  captain  is  very  lucky,  papa,"  said  Yolande, 
mildly,  "for  she  is  exceedingly  nice  ;  and  she  has  been  ex- 
ceedingly kind  to  me." 

"  I  suppose  the  day  will  come  when  this  captain,  or  any 
other  captain,  would  be  just  as  glad  to  have  you  sit  next 
him,"  he  said. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  with  a  smile,  "  are  you  jealous  of  Mrs. 
Graham  for  my  sake  ?  I  am  sure  I  do  not  wish  to  sit  next 
the  captain  ;  I  have  not  even  soen  him  yet  that  I  know  of." 

15 ut  this  delay,  necessary  or  unnecessary,  made  him  ir- 
ritable and  anxious.  He  would  not  go  to  the  saloon  until 
lie  had  seen  all  the  luggage — both  his  and  Yolande's — des- 
patched to  their  respective  cabins.  Then  he  began  to  in- 
quire why  the  ship  did  not  start.  Why  were  the  strainers 
not  packed  off  on  board  the  tender  and  sent  ashore  ?  Why 
did  the  chief  officer  allow  these  boats  to  be  hanging  about? 
The  agent  of  the  company  had  no  right  to  be  standing  talk- 
ing on  deck  t\vo  hours  after  the  ship  was  timed  to  sail. 

M ••an while  Yolande  stole  away   to   her  own  cabin,  and 

carefully  and  religiously — and,  indeed,  with  a  little  choking 

in  the  throat—opened  the  little  basket  that  held  the  flowers 

whether  they   might  not  be   the  better  for  a  hittle 

sprinkling  Of  water.     They    were  rather  expensive   flowers 

poor  woman   to   have   bought,  and  the   damp  moss  in 

which  they  were  imbedded  and  the  basket  itself  also   were 

ve  of  Covent  Garden   than  of  Whitechapd. 

Yolande  poured  some  water  into  the  washhand   basin,  ami 

dipped  her  fingers  into  it,  and  very  carefully  and  tenderly 

sprinkled  the  flowers  over.     And  then  she  considered  \?hat 

was  likely  to  be  the  coolest  and  safest  place  in  the  cabin  for 


YOLAXDE.  S3 

them,  and  hung  the  basket  there,  and  came  out  again — . 
shutting  the  door,  involuntarily,  with  quietness. 

She  passed  through  the  saloon,  and  went  up  oil  deck. 
Her  father  was  still  there. 

"  Papa,"  said  she,  "  you  are  a  very  unnatural  person. 
You  are  starving  me." 

"Haven't  you  had  lunch,  Yolande ?"  said  he,  with  a 
sudden  compunction. 

"  No,  I  have  not.  Do  I  ever  have  lunch  without  you  ? 
I  am  waiting  for  you." 

"  Really,  this  delay  is  most  atrocious  !  "  he  said.  "  Whnt 
is  the  use  of  advertising  one  hour  and  sailing  at  another? 
There  can  be  no  excuse.  The  tender  has  gone  ashore." 

"  Oh,  but,  papa,  they  say  there  is  a  lady  who  missed  the 
train,  and  is  coming  down  by  a  special — " 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Why,  that  is  worse.  The 
absurdity  of  keeping  a  ship  like  this  waiting  for  an  idiot  of 
a  woman  !  " 

"  I  am  so  hungry,  papa !  " 

"  Well,  go  down  below,  and  get  something,  if  you  can. 
No  doubt  the  gross  mismanagement  reaches  to  the  saloon 
tables  as  well." 

She  put  her  hand  within  his  arm,  and  half  drew  him 
along  to  the  companion  way. 

"  What  is  the  difference  of  an  hour  or  two."  said  she, 
"  if  we  are  to  be  at  sea  for  a  fortnight  ?  Perhaps  the  poor 
lady  who  is  coming  down  by  the  special  train  has  some  one 
ill  abroad.  And — and  besides,  papa,  I  am  so  very,  very, 
very  hungry !  " 

He  went  down  with  her  to  the  saloon,  and  took  his  place 
in  silence.  Yolande  sat  next  to  Mrs.  Graham,  who  was 
very  talkative  and  merry,  even  though  there  was  no  captain 
in  his  place  to  do  her  honor.  Young  Archie  Leslie  was 
opposite ;  so  was  Colonel  Graham.  They  were  mostly 
idling  ;  but  Yoland  was  hungry,  and  they  were  all  anxious  to 
help  her  at  once,  though  the  silent  dusky  stewards  knew 
their  duties  well  enough. 

By  and  by,  when  they  were  talking  about  anything  or 
nothing,  it  occurred  to  the  young  Master  of  Lynn  to  say, 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  that  we  are  off?" 

"No!  impossible!"  was  the  general  cry. 

"  Ob,  but  we  are,  though.     Look  !  " 

Mr.  Winterbourne   quickly  got  up   and  went  to  one  of 


34  YOLANDE. 

the  ports ;  there,  undoubtedly,  were  the  river-banks  slowly, 
slowly  going  astern. 

He  went  back  to  his  scat,  putting  his  hand  on  Yolando'i 
shoulder  as  he  sat  down. 

**  Yolande,"  said  he,  "  do  you  know  that  we  are  off — 
really  and  truly  going  away  from  England — altogether  quit 
from  its  shores?" 

His  manner  had  almost  instantly  changed.  His  spirits 
quickly  brightened  up.  He  made  himself  most  agreeable 
to  Mrs.  Graham;  and  was  humorous  in  his  quiet,  half- 
sardonic  way,  and  was  altogether  pleased  with  the  appear- 
ance and  the  appointments  of  the  ship.  To  fancy  this  great 
mass  of  metal  moving  away  like  that,  and  the  throbbing  of 
the  screw  scarcely  to  be  detected ! 

"You  know,  my  dear  Mrs.  Graham,"  he  said  presently, 
"  this  child  of  mine  is  a  most  economical,  even  a  penurious, 
creature;  and  I  must  depend  on  you  to  force  her  to  make 
proper  purchases  at  the  different  places — all  the  kinds  of 
tilings  that  women-folk  prize,  don't  you  know.  Lace,  now. 
What  is  the  use  of  being  at  Malta  if  you  don't  buy  lace  ? 
And  embroideries  and  things  of  that  kind.  She  ought  to 
bring  back  enough  of  Eastern  silks  and  stuffs  to  last  her  a 
lifetime.  And  jewelry  too — silver  suits  her  very  well — she 
must  get  plenty  of  that  at  Cairo — " 

"  Oh,  you  can  leave  that  to  my  wife,"  Colonel  Graham 
said,  confidently.  "  She'd  buy  up  the  Pyramids  if  she 
could  take  them  home.  I'm  glad  it  won't  be  my  money." 

And  this  was  but  one  small  item  of  expectation.  The 
voyage  before  them  furnished  forth  endless  hopes  and 
schemes.  They  all  adjourned  to  the  hurricane-deck;  and 
here  his  mood  of  contented  cheerfulness  was  still  more 
obvious.  lie  was  quite  delighted  with  the  cleanness  and 
order  of  the  ship,  and  with  the  courtesy  of  the  captain,  and 
with  the  smart  look  of  the  officers;  and  he  even  expressed 
approval  of  the  pretty,  <miet,  not  romantic  scenery  of  the 
eMuary  of  the  Thames.  Yoland  was  with  him.  When 
they  walked,  they  walked  arm  in  arm.  He  said  he  thought 
the  (iraliaiiiH  were  likely  to  be  excellent  companions  ;  Mrs. 
(irahatn  was  a  charming  woman  ;  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
quiet  humor  about  her  husband  ;  The  Master  of  Lynn  was 
a  frank-mannered  young  fellow,  with  honest  eyes.  His  step 
\\\\ -\v  jaunty.  lie  told  Yolande  she  must,  when  iu  Egypt, 
buy  at  least  half  a  do/.en  Kastern  costumes,  the  more  gor- 


YOLANDE.  35 

geous  the  better,  so  that  she  should  never  be  at  a  loss  when 
asked  to  go  to  a  fancy-dress  ball. 

And  at  dinner,  too,  in  the  evening,  it  was  a  delight  to 
Yolande  to  sit  next  to  him,  and  listen  to  his  chuckles  and 
his  little  jokes.  Care  seemed  to  have  left  him  altogether. 
The  night,  when  they  went  on  deek  again,  was  dark;  but  a 
dark  night  pleased  him  as  much  as  anything.  Yolande  was 
walking  with  him. 

And  then  they  sat  down  with  their  friends:  and  Mrs. 
Graham  had  much  to  talk  about.  Yolande  sat  silent.  Far 
away  in  the  darkness  a  long  thin  dull  line  of  gold  was 
visible  ;  she  had  been  told  that  these  were  the  lights  of 
Hastings.  It  is  a  strange  thing  to  sail  past  a  country  in  the 
night-time  and  to  think  of  all  the  beating  human  hearts  it 
contains — of  the  griefs,  and  despairs,  and  hushed  joys  all 
hidden  away  there  in  the  silence.  And  perhaps  Yolande  was 
thinking  most  of  all  of  the  poor  mother — whose  name  she 
did  not  know,  whom  she  should  never  see  again — but  whose 
heart  she  knew  right  well  was  heavy  that  night  with  its 
aching  sorrow.  It  was  her  first  actual  contact  with  human 
misery,  and  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  woman's 
face.  That  was  terrible,  and  sad  beyond  anything  that  she 
could  have  imagined.  For  indeed  her  own  life  so  far  had 
been  among  the  roses.  As  Mrs.  Graham  had  said,  she  was 
but  a  child. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MRS.    BELL. 

"  IT  is  really  quite  wonderful  how  intimate  you  become 
with  people  on  board  ship,  and  how  well  you  get  to  know 
them." 

This  not  entirely  novel  observation  was  addressed  to 
Yolande  by  the  Master  of  Lynn,  while  these  two,  with  some 
half-dozen  others,  were  grouped  together  in  the  companion, 
way,  where  they  had  taken  shelter  from  the  flying  sea*. 
The  remark  was  not  new,  but  he  appeared  to  think  it  im- 
portant. He  seemed  anxious  to  convince  her  of  its  truth. 

"It  is  really  quite  wonderful,"  he  repeated;  and  he  re- 


SO  YOLANDK. 

garded  the  pretty  face  as  if  eager  to  meet  with  acquiescence 
there.  "  On  bonrd  ship  you  get  to  know  the  characters  ot 
people  so  thoroughly ;  you  can  tell  whether  the  friendship 
is  likely  to  last  after  the  voyage  is  over.  Balls  and  dinner 
parties  are  of  no  use;  that  is  only  acquaintanceship  ;  at  sea 
you  are  thrown  so  much  together  ;  you  are  cut  off  from  the 
world,  you  know;  there  is  a  kind  of  fellow-feeling  and  com- 
panionship— that — that  is  quite  different.  Why,"  said  he, 
with  his  eyes  brightening,  "  it  seems  absurd  to  think  that 
the  day  before  yesterday  you  and  I  were  absolute  strangers, 
and  yet  here  you  have  been  letting  me  bore  you  for  hours 
by  talking  of  Lynn  and  the  people  there — " 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you  I  am  very  grateful,"  said  Yo- 
lande,  with  much  sincerity.  "But  for  you  I  should  have 
been  quite  alone." 

The  fact  is,  they  had  encountered  a  heavy  two  days' 
gale  outside  the  Bay  of  Biscay  and  south  of  that ;  and  as 
the  ship  was  a  pretty  bad  roller,  sad  havoc  was  wrought 
among  the  passengers.  Mrs.  Graham  had  disappeared 
from  the  outset.  Her  husband  was  occasionally  visible; 
but  he  was  a  heavy  man,  and  did  not  like  being  knocked 
about,  so  he  remained  mostly  in  the  saloon.  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne  was  a  good  enough  sailor,  but  the  noises  at  night 
— he  had  a  spar-deck  cabin — kept  him  awake,  and  he  spent 
the  best  part  of  the  daytime  in  his  berth  trying  to  get  fitful 
snatches  of  sleep.  Accordingly,  Yolande,  who  wanted  to 
see  the  sights  of  the  storm,  betook  herself  to  the  companion- 
way,  where  she  would  have  been  entirely  among  strangers 
(being  somewhat  reserved  in  her  walk  a»d  conversation) 
had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Leslie.  He,  indeed,  proved  himself 
to  be  a  most  agreeable  companion — modest,  assiduously 
attentive,  good-natured,  and  talkative,  and  very  respectful. 
He  \v:is  entirely  governed  by  her  wishes.  He  brought  her 
the  news  of  the  ship,  when  it  was  not  every  one  who  would 
venture  along  the  deck,  dodging  the  heavy  seas.  He  got 
her  the  best  corner  in  this  companion  way,  and  the  most 
comfortable  of  the  chairs ;  and  he  had  rugs  for  her,  and  n 
only  that  she  was  too  far  much  interested  in  what  was 
going  on  around  her  to  read.  Once  or  twice,  when  she 
i  stand  by  the  door,  lie  even  ventured  to  put  his  hand 
"ii  IHT  :mn,  afraid  lest  she  should  be  overbalanced  and 
thrown  out  on  the  swimming  decks.  For  there  was  a  kind 
of  excitement  amid  this  roar  and  crash  of  wind  and  water. 
Who  could  decide  which  was  the  grander  spectacle — that 


YOLANDE.  37 

great  mass  of  driven  and  tossing  and  seething  silver  that 
went  out  and  out  until  it  met  a  wall  of  black  cloud  at  the 
horizon,  or  the  view  from  the  other  side  of  the  vessel  (with 
one's  back  to  the  sunlight) — the  mountains  of  blue  rolling 
by,  and  their  crests  so  torn  by  the  gale  that  the  foam  ended 
in  a  rainbow  flourish  of  orange  and  red? 

"  They  say  she  is  rolling  eighty-four  degrees  '  out  and 
out, '  "  said  Archie  Leslie. 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Yolande,  looking  grave.  "  But  I 
don't  know  what  that  means." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  he  ;  "  but  it  sounds  well.  What  I 
do  know  is  that  you  won't  see  my  sister  till  we  get  to  Gib. 
You  seem  to  be  a  capital  sailor,  Miss  Winterbourne." 

"  I  have  often  had  to  be  ashamed  of  it,"  said  Yolande. 
4'  To-day,  also — there  was  no  other  lady  at  the  table — oh,  I 
cannot  sit  alone  like  that  any  more  ;  no,  I  will  rather  have 
no  dinner  than  go  and  sit  alone;  it  is  terrible — and  the 
captain  laughing!" 

"Poor  fellow,  he  is  not  in  a  laughing  mood  just  now." 

"  Why,  then  ?     There  is  no  danger  ?  " 

"Oh  no.  But  I  hear  he  has  had  his  head  cut  open — a 
chronometer  falling  on  him  in  his  cabin.  But  I  think  he'll 
show  up  at  dinner  ;  it  is  only  a  flesh  wound.  They've  had 
one  of  the  boats  stove  in,  they  say,  and  some  casks  carried 
away,  and  a  good  deal  of  smashing  forward.  I  wonder  if 
your  father  has  got  any  sleep — I  should  think  not.  I'll  go 
and  see  how  he  is  getting  on  if  you  like  ?  " 

"  Oh  no ;  if  he  is  asleep,  that  is  very  well.  No,"  said 
Yolande;  "I  wish  you  to  tell  me  more  about  your  friend 
— the  gentleman  who  was  your  tutor.  That  is  a  very 
strange  life  for  any  one  to  live." 

What  she  wished  was  enough  for  him. 

"  I  have  not  told  you  the  strangest  part  of  the  story," 
said  he,  "  for  you  would  not  believe  it." 

"  Am  I  so  unbelieving  ?  "  she  said,  looking  up. 

His  eyes  met  hers — but  only  for  an  instant.  Yolaiide'i 
eyes  were  calm,  smiling,  unconcerned  ;  it  was  not  in  them, 
at  all  events,  that  any  confusion  lay. 

u  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  that,"  said  he  ;  "  but — but  one 
has  one's  character  for  veracity,  don't  you  know — and  if  I 
were  to  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Bell — the  story  is  too  im- 
probable." 

Then  it  is  about  Mrs.  Bell  that  I   wish  to  hear,"  said 
in  her  gentle,  imperious  way. 


38  YOLANDE. 

"Besides,  I've  bored  you  all  day  long  aoout  those 
people  in  Inverness-shire.  You  will  think  I  have  never  seen 
any  one  else,  and  never  been  anywhere  else.  Now  I  would 
much  rather  hear  about  the  Chateau  and  the  people  there. 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  you  thought  of  America — after 
living  in  that  quiet  place." 

44  What  I  thought  of  America!"  said  Yolande,  with  a 
laugh.  "That  is  a  question  indeed  !  " 

*"  Isn't  it  the  question  that  all  Americans  ask  of  you  ? 
You  have  heard  enough  about  the  Inverness-shire  people. 
Tell  mo  about  Rcnnes.  Have  you  seen  much  of  Paris? 
Did  you  like  the  Parisians  ?  " 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "you  are  not  so  obedient  to  me  as  my 
papa  is." 

"  Fathers  in  Scotland  are  made  of  sterner  stuff,  I  should 
think,"  he  answered.  "We  don't  talk  that  way." 

"Now  listen,"  she  said.  "  I  have  the  picture  before  me 
— everything  complete — the  lake,  and  Lynn  Towers,  the 
mountains  and  moorland,  also  the  ravines  where  the  deer 
take  shelter — oh  yes,  I  can  see  all  that  quite  clear,  but  the 
central  figure,  that  is  absent." 

"The  central  figure?" 

".Airs.  Dell." 

He  had  quite  forgotten  about  that  lady,  now  he 
laughed. 

"Oli  no,"  he  said  ;  "Mrs.  Bell  is  not  so  important  as 
that.  She  has  nothing  to  do  with  Lynn.  She  lives  at  Gress." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  beginning  at  all  events,"  she  remarked, 
with  a  slight  slinig  of  the  shoulders. 

"Oh,  but  must  I  really  tell  you  the  story?  You  will 
try  hard  to  believe  V  " 

•*I  am  not  unbelieving." 

"  Very  \\  ell,  then.  I  will  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Bell,  for  I 
Lope  some  day  you  will  see  her." 

She  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  ask  your  father  to  take  a  moor  up 

there  that  I  know  of,  and  of  course  you  would  come  to  the 

.     If  lie  eares  about  grouse-shooting  and  isn't  afraid 

of  hard  work,  it  is  the  very  place  for  him.     Then  you  would 

my  friend  Melville,  who  ought  to  be  Meville  of  Mona- 

glen  by  rights,  and  maybe  he  will  before  Mrs.  Bell  has  done 

with  him. 

"  Mrs.  Bell  again  !     Then  I  am  to  hear  about  her  after 

ttll  I 


YOLANDE.  ;;-.) 

"  Very  well,  then.  Mrs.  Bell  is  not  Mrs.  Bell,  but  Miss 
Boll,  only  they  call  her  '  Mrs.'  because  she  is  an  elderly  lady, 
and  is  rich,  and  is  a  substantial  and  matronly-looking  kind 
of  person.  Of  course  you  won't  believe  the  story,  but  never 
mind.  Mrs.  Bell  was  cook  to  the  Melvillcs — that  was  years 
and  years  ago,  before  old  Mr,  Melville  died.  But  she  WHS 
an  ambitious  party,  and  Gross  wasn't  enough  for  her.  She 
could  read,  and  it  isn't  every  Highland  servant  lass  who 
can  do  that.  She  read  cookery  books  and  made  experi- 
ments. Now  you  see  the  adventures  of  Mrs.  Bell  don't 
make  a  heroic  story." 

"But  I  am  listening,"  said  Yolande,  with  a  calm  air. 

"  She  got  to  be  rather  clever,  though  there  was  not 
much  chance  for  her  in  the  Mclvilles*  house.  Then  she 
went  to  Edinburgh.  All  this  is  plain  sailing.  She  got  a 
situation  in  a  hotel  there  ;  then  she  was  allowed  to  try  what 
she  could  do  in  the  cooking  line  ;  then  she  was  made  head 
cook.  That  is  the  end  of  chapter  one  ;  and  I  suppose  you 
believe  me  so  far.  Years  went  on,  and  Kirsty  was  earning 
a  good  wage ;  and  all  that  we  knew  of  her  was  that  she 
used  to  send  small  sums  of  money  occasionally  to  help  one 
or  two  of  the  poor  people  in  Gross  who  had  been  her  neigh- 
bors, for  she  had  neither  kith  nor  kin  of  her  own.  Then 
there  happened  to  come  to  the  hotel  in  Edinburgh  an  elderly 
English  gentleman  who  was  travelling  about  for  his  health, 
and  he  was  frightfully  anxious  about  his  food,  and  he  very 
much  appreciated  the  cooking  at  the  hotel.  lie  made  in- 
quiries. He  saw  Kirsty,  who  was  by  this  time  a  respectable 
middle-aged  woman,  getting  rather  gray.  What  docs  the 
old  maniac  do  but  tell  her  that  he  has  only  a  few  years  to 
live;  that  the  cooking  of  his  food  is  about  the  most  impor- 
tant thin^  to  him  in  the  world  ;  that  he  has  no  near  rel- 
atives to  inherit  his  property ;  and  that  if  she  will  go  to 
Leicestershire  and  bind  herself  to  remain  cook  in  his  house 
as  long  as  he  lived,  he  will  undertake  to  leave  her  every 
penny  he  possessed  when  he  died.  'I  will,' says  Kirsty, 
but  she  was  a  wise  woman,  and  she  went  to  the  lawyers; 
and  had  everything  properly  settled.  Shall  I  go  on,  Miss 
Winterbourne  ?  I  don't  think  my  heroine  interests  you. 
I  wish  you  could  see  old  Mrs.  Bell." 

"  Oh  yes,  go  on.  That  is  not  so  unbelievable.  Of  course 
I  believe  you.  Is  it  necessary  to  say  that?  " 

Yulande's  dignity  was  a  little  bit  disturbed  at  this  ino- 


40  YOLANDE. 

ment  by  a  scattering  of  spray  around  her  ;  but  she  quickly 
dried  her  red-gold  hair  and  the  smooth  oval  of  her  cheeks. 
"  What  conies  after  is  a  good  bit  stranger,"  he  continued. 
"  The  old  gentleman  died  ;  only  he  lived  much  longer  than 
anybody  expected  ;  and  Kirsty,  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight  or 
so,  found  herself  in  possession  of  an  income  of  Very  near 
£4000  a  year — well,  I  believe  it  is  more  than  that  now, 
for  the  property  has  increased  in  value.  And  now  begins 
what  I  can't  tell  you  half  well  enough — I  wish  you  could  hear 
Mrs.  Bell's  own  account — I  mean  of  the  schemes  that  people 
laid  to  inveigle  her  into  a  marriage.  You  know  she  is  rather 
a  simple  and  kindly  hearted  woman  ;  but  she  believes  herself 
to  be  the  very  incarnation  of  shrewdness  ;  and  certainly  on 
that  one  point  she  showed  herself  shrewd  enough.  When 
my  sister  re-appears  on  deck  again,  you  say  to  her,  '  Kirsty 
kenned  better,'  and  see  if  she  does  not  recognize  the  phrase. 
Mrs.  Bell's  description  of  the  various  offers  of  marriage  she 
has  had  beats  anything;  but  it  was  always  '  Kirsty  kenned 
better.'  Yes  ;  and  among  these  was  a  formal  proposal  from 

Lord ;  I  mean  the  father  of  the  present  Lord ;  and 

that  proposal  was  twice  repeated.     You  know  the s  are 

awfully  poor ;  and  that  one  was  at  his  wit's  end  for  money. 
But  Kirsty  was  not  to  be  caught.  Among  other  things  he 
stipulated  that  he  was  to  be  allowed  to  spend  eight  months 
of  the  year  in  London,  she  remaining  either  in  Leicestershire 
or  in  the  Highlands,  as  she  pleased.  More  than  that,  he 

even  got  the  duke  of to  write  to  Miss  Bell,  and  back  up 

the  suit,  anJ  promise  that,  if  she  would  consent,  he  would 
himself  go  down  and  give  her  away." 

"  The  great  Duke  of ?  "  said  Yolande,  with  her  eyes 

a  little  bit  wider. 

"Yes;  the  late  Duke.  I  thought  I  should  astonish  you. 
But  I  have  seen  the  Duke's  letter ;  it  is  one  of  Mrs.  Bell's 
proudest  possessions.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  see  it  for 
yourself  soim;  day.  But  Kirsty  kenned  better." 

"  What  did  she  do  then?" 

44  What  did  she  do?     She  went  back  to  Gross  like  a  §en- 
gible  woman.    And  she  is  more  than  sensible — she  is  remark- 
ably good*natured  ;  and  she  sought  out  the  son  of  her  old 
r — that's  my  friend  Melville,  you  know,  and  then  she 
all  her   flattery  and   shrewdness  on  liim  until  she  got 
him  j  1  that  he  should  live  in  Gress — he  was  cadging 

iW  another  tutorship  at  the  time — and  make  a  sort  of 
i  villnge  of  it,  and  have  old  Kirsty  for  his  housekeeper. 


YOLANDR.  41 

Oh,  she's  clever  enough  in  her  way.  She  has  picked  up  very 
good  manners;  she  can  hold  her  own  with  anybody.  And 
ghe  manages  Melville  most  beautifully  ;  and  he  isn't  easy 
to  manage.  She  is  always  very  respectful,  and  makes  hiwi 
believe  he  is  doing  her  a  great  kindness  in  spending  her 
money  in  improving  the  village,  and  all  that ;  but  what  she 
really  means,  of  course,  is  that  he  should  be  a  kind  of  small 
laird  in  the  place  that  used  to  belong  to  his  people.  And 
that  is  what  that  woman  means  to  do  ;  I  know  it — I  am 
certain  of  it.  If  ever  Monaglen  comes  into  the  market  she'll 
snap  it  up;  she  must  have  a  heap  saved.  Sooner  or  later 
she'll  make  Jack  Melville  'Melville  of  Monaglen,'  as  sure  as 
lie's  alive." 

"You  and  he  are  great  friends,  then?" 

"Oh,  he  rather  sits  upon  me,"  the  Master  of  Lynn  said, 
modestly  ;  "  but  we  are  pretty  good  friends,  as  things  go." 

The  gale  did  not  abate  much  that  afternoon;  on  the 
contrary,  the  great  ship  seemed  to  be  rolling  more  heavily 
than  ever;  and  at  one  minute  a  little  accident  occurred 
that  might  have  been  attended  with  more  serious  con- 
sequences. Mr.  Winterbourne  and  young  Leslie,  not  being 
able  to  reach  the  smoking-room  on  account  of  the  seas 
coming  over  the  bows,  had  sought  shelter  on  a  bench  im- 
mediately aft  of  the  hurricane-deck,  and  there,  enveloped 
in  waterproof,  they  were  trying  to  keep  their  cigars  alight. 
Unfortunately  the  lashings  securing  this  bench  had  not 
been  very  strong,  and  at  one  bad  lurch  of  the  vessel — 
indeed,  the  deck  seemed  to  be  at  right  angles  with  the 
water  below  them — away  the  whole  thing  went,  spinning 
down  to  leeward.  Leslie  was  a  smart  young  fellow,  saw  what 
was  coming,  and  before  the  bench  had  reached  the  gunwale 
he  had  with  one  hand  swung  himself  on  to  the  ladder 
ascending  to  the  hurricane-deck,  while  with  the  other  he  had 
seized  hold  of  his  compaion's  coat.  Probably,  had  he  not 
been  so  quick,  the  worst  that  could  have  happened  was  that 
the  two  of  them  might  have  had  a  thorough  sousing  in  the 
water  surging  along  the  scuppers  ;  but  when  Yolamle  heard 
of  the  accident,  and  when  Mr.  Winterbourne  rather  sadly 
showed  her  his  waterproof,  whieh  had  been  half  torn  from 
his  back,  she  was  instantly  convinced  that  young  Leslie  had 
saved  her  father's  life. 

In  consequence  she  was  much  less  imperious  and  wilful 
in  her  manner  all  that  afternoon,  and  was  even  timidly 
polite  to  him.  She  consented,  without  a  word,  to  go  down 


4»J  YOLANDE. 

to  dinner,  although  again  she  was  the  only  lady  at  table. 
And,  indeed,  dinner  that  evening  was  entirely  a  ludicrous 
performance.  When  Mr.  Winterbourne  and  Yolande  and 
young  Leslie  got  to  the  foot  of  the  companion-stairs},  and 
with  much  clinging  prepared  to  enter  the  saloon,  the  lirst 
thing  they  saw  before  them  was  a  sudden  wave  of  white  that 
left  the  table  and  crashed  against  the  walls.  The  stewards 
regarded  the  broken  crockery  with  a  ghastly  smile,  but 
made  no  immediate  effort  to  pick  up  the  fragments.  The 
"  fiddles"  on  the  table  were  found  to  be  of  no  use  whatever. 
When  these  three  sat  down  they  could  only  make  sure  of 
such  things  as  they  could  keep  their  fingers  upon.  Buttress- 
ing was  of  no  avail.  Plates,  tumblers,  knives  and  forks, 
broke  away  and  steeple-chased  over  the  fiddles,  until  the 
final  smash  on  the  walls  brought  their  career  to  a  close. 
The  din  was  awful  ;  and  Mr.  Winterbourne  was  much  too 
anxious  about  the  objects  around  him  to  be  able  to  make  his 
customary  little  jokes.  But  they  got  through  it  somehow  ; 
and  the  only  result  of  these  wild  adventures  with  rocketing 
loaves  and  plates  and  bottles  was  that  Yolande  and  the 
young  Master  of  Lynn  seemed  to  be  on  more  and  more 
friendly  and  familiar  terms.  Yolande  talked  to  him  as 
frankly  as  if  he  had  been  her  brother. 

Next  day  matters  mended  considerably ;  and  the  next 
again  broke  blue  and  fair  and  shining,  with  an  immense 
number  of  Mother  Gary's  chickens  skimming  along  the  sun- 
lit waters.  Far  away  in  the  south  the  pale  line  .of  the 
African  coast  was  visible.  People  began  to  appear  on  deck 
who  had  been  hidden  for  the  last  couple  of  days;  Mrs. 
Graham  was  up  and  smiling,  in  a  exceedingly  pretty  cos- 
tume. When  should  they  reach  Gibraltar  ?  Who  was  going 
ashore  ?  Were  there  many  "  Scorpions"  on  board  ? 

Yolande  was  not  much  of  a  politician ;  but  her  father 
being  somewhat  of  a  "  Jingo,"  of  course  she  was  a  "  Jingo" 
t««o  ;  and  she  was  very  proud  when,  towards  the  afternoon, 
Irew  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  great  gray  scarred  rock 
that  commands  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  her  heart  warmed  at 
,'ht  of  a  little  red  speck  on  one  of  the  ramparts — an 
English  sentry  keeping  guard  there.  And  when  they  went 
a>ii..rc,  and  w'andcml  through  the  streets,  she  had  as  much 
interest  in  plain  Tommy  Atkins  in  his  red  coat  as  in  any  of 
the  more  picturesquely  clad  Spaniards  or  Arabs  she  saw 
there;  and  when  they  went  into  the  Alameda  to  hear  the 
military  hand  play,  she  knew  by  a  sort  of  instinct  that 


YOLANDE.  48 

among  the  ladies  sitting  in  their  cool  costumes  under  the 
maples  and  acacias  such  and  such  groups  were  English- 
women— the  wives  of  the  officers,  no  doubt — and  she  would 
have  liked  to  have  gone  and  spoken  to  them.  "  Gib."  seemed 
to  her  to  be  a  bit  of  England,  and  therefore  friendly  and 
familiar  ;  she  thought  the  place  looked  tremendously  strong ; 
and  she  was  glad  to  see  such  piles  of  shot  and  ranged  rows 
of  cannon ;  and  she  had  a  sort  of  gratitude  in  her  heart 
toward  the  officers  and  the  garrison,  and  even  the  English- 
women sitting  there,  with  a  tint  of  sun-brown  on  their 
cheeks,  but  an  English  look  in  their  eyes.  And  all  this  was 
absurd  enough  in  a  young  minx  who  made  a  fool  of  English 
idioms  nearly  every  time  she  opened  her  mouth  ! 

What  a  beautiful  night  that  was  as  they  sailed  away 
from  the  vast  Gray  Rock !  The  moon  was  growing  in 
strength  now,  and  the  heavens  were  clear.  The  passengers 
had  begun  to  form  their  own  little  groups ;  acquaintance- 
ships had  been  made  ;  chair  drawn  close  together  on  the 
deck,  in  the  silence,  under  the  stars.  And  down  there  the 
skylight  of  the  saloon  was  open,  and  there  was  a  yellow  glare 
coming  up  from  below,  also  the  sound  of  singing.  There 
were  at  duets  below — two  or  three  young  people ;  and 
whether  they  sang  well  or  ill,  the  effect  was  pleasant  enough, 
with  the  soft  murmur  of  the  Mediterranean  all  around. 
"Oh,  who  will  o'er  the  downs  so  free" — of  course  they  sang 
that;  people  always  do  sing  that  on  board  ship.  Then 
they  sang,  "  I  would  that  my  love  could  silently,"  and  many 
another  old  familiar  air,  the  while  the  vessel  churned  on  its 
way  through  the  unseen  waters,  and  the  pale  shadows  thrown 
by  the  moon  on  the  white  decks  slowly  moved  with  the  mo- 
tion of  the  vessel.  It  was  a  beautiful  night. 

The  Master  of  Lynn  came  aft  from  the  smoking-roorn, 
and  met  his  brother-in-law  on  the  way. 

"  This  is  better,  isn't  it?  "  said  Colonel  Graham.  "  Thii 
is  more  like  what  I  shipped  for." 

"  Yes,  this  is  better.  Do  you  know  where  the  Winter- 
bournes  are  ?  " 

"  In  the  saloon,     I  have  just  left  them  there." 

Young  Leslie  was  passing  on,  but  he  stopped. 

"I  say,  Graham,  I've  noticed  one  thing  on  board  this 
ship  already." 

"  \Vhat  ?  " 

"  You  watch  to-morrow,  if  they're  both  on  deck  at  the 


44  YOLANDE. 

same  time.  You'll  find  that  Polly  has  got  afc  the  men  about 
her,  and  Miss  Winterbourne  all  the  children.  Odd,  isn't 
it?" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THEY  were  indeed  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  as 
they  went  ploughing  their  way  through  these  blue  Mediter- 
ranean seas.  Day  after  day  brought  its  round  of  amuse- 
ments ;  and  always  the  sun  shining  on  the  white  decks; 
and  the  soft  winds  blowing;  and  now  and  again  a  swallow, 
or  dove,  or  quail,  or  some  such  herald  from  unknown  coasts, 
taking  refuge  for  awhile  in  the  rigging,  or  fluttering  along 
by  the  vessel's  side.  There  was  an  amateur  photographer 
on  board,  moreover  ;  and  many  were  the  groups  that  were 
formed  and  taken  ;  only  it  was  observed  that  when  the 
officers  were  included,  the  captain  generally  managed  to 
have  Yolande  standing  on  the  bridge  beside  him — a  piece 
of  favoritism  that  broke  through  all  rules  and  regulations. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of "  Bull "  played ;  and  it  was 
wonderful  how,  when  Mrs.  Graham  was  playing,  there 
always  happened  to  be  a  number  of  those  young  Highland 
officers  about,  ready  to  pick  up  her  quoits  for  her.  And 
always,  but  especially  on  the  bright  and  breezy  forenoons, 
there  was  the  constitutional  tramp  up  and  down  the  long 
hurricane-deck — an  occupation  of  which  Yolande  was  par- 
ticularly fond,  and  in  which  she  found  no  one  could  keep 
up  with  her  so  untiringly  as  the  Master  of  Lynn.  She  was 
just  as  well  pleased,  however,  when  she  was  alone,  for  then 
«he  sank  to  herself,  and  had  greater  freedom  in  flinging  her 
arms  about. 

u  Look  at  her,"  her   father  said  one  morning  to  Mrs. 
Graham — concealing  his  admiration  under  an  air  of  chagrin. 
"  Wouldn't  you  think  she  was  an  octopus,  or  a   windmill, 
•im-t  hing  like  that?  " 

•  •all  it  a  rattling  good  style  of  walking,"  said  Colonel 

am,  interposing.     "Elbows  in;  palms  out.     She  is  a 

rkalily  well-made  young  \voman — that's  my  opinion." 

Hut  she  isn't  an  octopus,"  her  father  said,  peevishly. 

"  Oh,  that  is  merely  an  excess  of  vitality,''  her  champion 


YO  LANDS.  45 

said.  "Look  ho\v  springy  her  walk  is  !  I  don't  believe 
her  heel  ever  touches  the  deck — all  her  walking  is  done 
with  the  front  part  of  her  foot.  Gad,  it's  infectious,"  con- 
tinued the  colonei,  with  a  grim  laugh.  "I  caught  myself 
trying  it  when  I  was  walking  with  her  yesterday.  But  it 
ain't  easy  at  fifteen  stone." 

"She  need  not  make  herself  ridiculous,"  her  father 
said. 

"Ridiculous?  I  think  it's  jolly  to  look  at  her.  .Makes 
one  feel  young  again.  She  don't  know  that  a  lot  of  fogies 
are  watching  her.  Bet  a  sovereign  she's  talking  about 
dancing.  Archie's  devilish  fond  of  dancing — so  he  ought 
to  be  at  his  time  of  life.  They  say  they're  going  to  give 
us  a  ball  to-night — on  deck." 

Mrs.  Graham  was  a  trifle  impatient.  There  were  none 
of  the  young  officers  about,  for  a  wonder ;  they  had  gone 
to  have  their  after-breakfast  cigar  in  the  smoking-room — 
and  perhaps  a  little  game  of  Nap  therewithal.  This  study 
of  Yolande's  appearance  had  lasted  long  enough,  in  her 
opinion. 

"  It  is  clever  of  her  to  wear  nothing  on  her  -head,"  she 
said,  as  she  took  up  a  book  and  arranged  herself  in  her 
chair.  "  Her  hair  is  her  best  feature." 

But  what  Yolande  and  her  companion,  young  Leslie, 
were  talking  about,  as  they  marched  up  and  down  the  long 
white  decks — occasionally  stopping  to  listen  to  a  small  group 
of  lascars,  who  were  chanting  a  monotonous  singsong 
refrain — had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  with  dancing. 

"  You  think,  then,  I  ought  to  speak  to  your  father 
about  the  moor?  Would  you  like  it?  "  said  he. 

"  I  ?  "  she  said.  "  That  is  nothing.  If  my  papa  and  I 
are  together,  it  is  not  any  difference  to  me  where  we  are. 
But  if  it  is  so  wild  and  remote,  that  is  what  my  papa  will 
like." 

"  Remote  !  "  said  he,  with  a  laugh.  "  It  is  fourteen 
miles  away  from  anywhere.  I  like  to  hear  those  idiots 
talking  who  say  the  Highlands  are  overrun-  with  tourists. 
Much  they  know  about  the  Highlands  !  Well,  now  they've 
got  the  railway  to  Oban,  I  suppose  that's  pretty  bad.  But 
this  place  that  I  am  telling  you  of — why,  you  would  not  see 
a  strange  face  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other." 

"  Oh,  that  will  exactly  suit  my  papa — exactly,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile.  "Is  it  very,  very  far  away  from  everything 
and  every  one  ?  " 


46  YOLANDE. 

"  Isn't  it  ?  "  he  said,  grimly.  "  Why,  it's  up  near  tho 
sky,  to  begin  with.  I  should  say  the  average  would  be 
near  three  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  And 
as  for  remoteness — well,  perhaps  Kingussie  is  not  more 
than  twelve  miles  off  as  the  crow  flies ;  but  then  you've  got 
the  Monalea  mountains  between  it  and  you  ;  and  the 
Monalea  mountains  are  not  exactly  the  sort  of  place  that 
a  couple  of  old  ladies  would  like  to  climb  in  search  of  wild 
flowers.  You  see  that  is  the  serious  part  of  it  for  you,  Miss 
Winterbourne.  Fancy  the  change  between  the  temperature 
of  the  Nile  and  that  high  moorland — " 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  she  said.  "  So  long  as  I  am 
out  of  doors  the  heat  or  the  cold  is  to  me  nothing — nothing 
at  all." 

"  The  other  change,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  no  doubt 
would  be  striking  enough — from  the  busy  population  of 
Egypt  to  the  solitude  of  Allt-nam-Ba — " 

"What  is  it?    Allt— " 

"Allt-nam-Ba.  It  means  the  Stream  of  the  Cows, 
though  there  are  no  cows  there  now.  They  have  some 
strange  names  up  there — left  by  the  people  who  have  gone 
away.  I  suppose  people  did  live  there  once,  though  what 
they  lived  on  I  can't  imagine.  They  have  left  names,  any- 
way, some  of  them  simple  enough — the  Fair  Winding 
Water,  the  Dun  Water,  the  Glen  of  the  Horses,  the  Glen 
of  the  Gray  Loch,  and  so  forth — but  some  of  thorn  I  can't 
make  out  at  all.  One  is  the  Glen  of  the  Tombstone,  and  I 
have  searched  it,  and  never  could  find  any  trace  of  a  tomb- 
stone. One  is  the  Cairn  of  the  Wanderers,  and  they  must 
have  wandered  a  good  bit  before  they  got  up  there.  Then 
there  is  a  burn  that  is  called  the  Stream  of  the  Fairies — 
f€  nan  Sithena — that  is  simple  enough ;  but  there  is 
another  place  that  is  called  Black  Fairies.  Now  who  on 
earth  ever  heard  of  black  fairies  ?  " 

u  But  it  is  not  a  frightful  place  ?"  she  said.  '*  It  is  not 
terrible,  gloomy?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  he.  "These  are  only  names.  No 
one  knows  how  they  came  there,  that  is  all.  Gloomy  ?  I 
think  the  strath  from  the  foot  of  the  moor  down  to  our 
place  is  one  of  the  prettiest  straths  in  Scotland." 

"  Then  I  should  see  Lynn  Tower  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh  yes ;  it  isn't  much  of  a  building,  you  know." 

"  And  Mr.  Melville  of  Monaglen — that  would  be  inter. 
ttting  to  me." 


YOLAtfDE*  -17 

"Oh  yes,"  said  he:  "but— but  I  wouldn't  CM!!  him 
Monaglen — do  you  see — he  hasn't  got  Monaglei) ;  perhaps 
he  may  have  it  back  some  day." 

"And  you,"  she  said,  turning  her  clear  eyes  toward 
him,  4<  sometimes  they  call  you  Master  ;  is  it  right  ?  " 

lie  laughed  lightly. 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  formal  title — in  Scotland.  Colonel  Gra- 
ham makes  a  little  joke  of  it ;  I  suppose  that  is  what  you 
have  heard." 

"  I  must  not  call  you  so  ?  " 

"  Oh  no."  And  then  he  said,  with  a  laugh  :  "  You  may 
call  me  anything  you  like ;  what's  the  odds  ?  If  you 
want  to  please  ray  brother-in-law  you  should  call  him 
Inverstroy." 

"But  how  can  I -remember?"  she  said,  holding  up  her 
fingers  and  counting.  "  Not  Monaglcn ;  not  Master ; 
but  yes,  Investroy.  And  Mrs.  Bell,  shall  I  see  her  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  go  there." 

"And  the  mill-wheels,  and  the  electric  lamps,  and  all 
the  strange  things?" 

"  Oh  yes,  if  Jack  Melville  takes  a  fancy  to  you.  He 
doesn't  to  everybody." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  anxious,"  she  said  with  a  little  dignity. 
"  I  do  not  care  much  about  such  things.  It  is  no  matter 
to  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  a  thousand  times  !  "  lie.  said,  with 
much  earnestness,  "  Really,  I  was  not  thinking  of  what  I 
was  saying.  I  was  thinking  of  Jack  Melville's  ways.  Of 
course  he'll  be  delighted  to  show  you  everything — he  will 
be  perfectly  delighted.  He  is  awfully  courteous  to  stran- 
gers, lie  will  be  quite  delighted  to  show  you  the  whole  of 
his  instruments  and  apparatus." 

"  It  is  very  obliging,"  she  said,  with  something  of  cold- 
ness, "  but  there  is  no  need  that  I  shall  be  indebted  to  Mr. 
Melville." 

w  Not  of  Monaglen,"  he  said,  demurely. 

"Of  Monaglen,  or  not  of  Monnglen,"  she  said,  with  high 
indifference.  ""  Come,  shall  we  go  and  find  my  papa,  and 
tell  him  about  the  wild,  far  place,  and  the  Stream  of  the 
Fairies  ?  " 

"  No,  wait  a  moment,  Miss  Winterbournc,"  said  he, 
with  a  touch  of  embarrassment.  "  You  see,  that  shooting 
belongs  to- my  father.  And  1  look  after  the  letting  of  our 
shootings  and  fishings  when  I  am  at  home,  though  of  course 


4b  YOLANDE. 

we  have  an  agent.  Now — now  I  don't  quite  like  taking 
advantage  of  a  new  friendship  to — to  make  such  a  sugges- 
tion. I  mean  I  would  rather  sink  the  shop.  Perhaps  your 
father  might  get  some  other  shooting  up  there." 

"  But  not  with  the  Glen  of  the  Black  Fairies,  and  the 
fit  rath,  and  Lynn  Towers  near  the  loch  where  the  char  are, 
and  all  that  you  have  told  me.  No ;  if  I  am  not  to  so*1 
Mrs.  Bell — if  I  am  not  to  see — "  She  was  going  to  say 
Mr.  Melville  of  Monaglen,  but  she  waved  that  aside  with  a 
gesture  of  petulance.  "  No,  I  wish  to  see  all  that  y»-u  have 
told  me  about,  and  I  think  it  would  be  pleasant  if  we  were 
neighbors." 

"  You  really  must  have  neighbors,"  said  he,  eagerly, 
"  in  a  place  like  that.  That  is  one  thing  certain.  I  am 
sure  we  should  try  to  make  it  as  pleasant  for  you  ns  possi- 
ble. I  am  sure  my  father  would.  And  Polly  would  be  up 
sometimes — I  mean  Mrs.  Graham.  Oh,  I  assure  you,  if  it 
was  any  other  shooting  than  Allt-nam-Ba  I  should  be  very 
anxious  that  you  and  your  father  should  come  and  take  it. 
Of  course  the  lodge  is  not  a  grand  place." 

"  We  will  go  and  talk  about  it  now,"  she  said,  "  to  my 
papa,  and  yau  can  explain." 

Now,  as  it  turned  out,  although  Mr.  Winterbyurne  was 
rather  stnggered  at  first  by  Yolande's  wild  project  of 
suddenly  changing  the  idle  luxuries  of  a  Nile  voyage  for 
the  severities  of  a  moorland  home  in  the  North,  there  was 
something  in  the  notion  that  attracted  him.  He  began  to 
make  inquiries.  The  solitariness,  the  remoteness, "of  the 
place  seemed  to  strike  him.  Then  850  brace  of  grouse,  a 
few  black  game,  a  large  number  of  mountain  hares,  and 
six  stags  was  a  good  return  for  nine  weeks' shooting;  and 
the  last  tenant  had  not  had  experts  with  him.  Could 
Yolande  have  a  piano  or  a  harmonium  sent  to  her  away  in 
that  wilderness? — anything  to  break  the  silence  of  the 
s.  And  Mr.  Wintcrbourne  was  unlike  most  people 
who  arc  contemplating  the  renting  of  a  moor;  the  cost  of 
it  was  the  point  about  which  he  thought  least.  But  to  be 

v  up  there — with  Yolande. 

uOf  course  it  is  just  possible  that  the  place  may  have 
1  >«•<•!)  let  since  I  left,"  the  Master  of  Lynn  said.  "  We  have 
not  had  it  vacant  for  many  years  back.  But  that  could 
ea>ily  be  ascertained  at  Malta  by  telegram." 

••  You  think  you  would  like  the  place,  Yolande?"  her 
father  said. 


YOLANDE.  49 

"  I  think  so  ;  yes." 

"  You  would  not  die  of  cold  ?  " 

"  Not  willingly,  papa — I  mean  I  would  try  not — I  am 
not  afraid.  You  must  go  somewhere,  papa ;  there  is  no 
Parliament  there  ;  you  are  fond  of  shooting  ;  and  there 
will  be  many  days,  not  with  shooting,  for  you  and  T  le  to 
wander  in  the  mountains.  I  think  that  will  be  nice." 

"Very  well.  I  will  take  the  place,  Mr.  Leslie,  if  it  is 
still  vacant ;  and  I  hope  we  'shall  be  good  neighbors  ;  and 
if  you  can  send  us  a  deer  or  two  occasionally  into  the 
ravines  you  speak  of,  we  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you. 
And  now  about  dogs,  and  gillies,  and  ponies." 

But  this  proved  to  tie  an  endless  subject  of  talk  between 
these  two,  both  then  and  thereafter ;  and  so  Yolande  stole 
away  to  look  after  her  own  affairs.  Amongst  other  things 
she  got  hold  of  the  purser,  and  talked  so  coaxingly  to  him 
that  he  went  and  ordered  the  cook  to  make  two  sheets  of 
toffee  instead  of  one,  and  all  of  white  sugar  ;  so  that  when 
Yolande  subsequently  held  her  afternoon  levee  among  the 
children  of  the  steerage  passangers  she  was  provided  with 
sweetstuff  enough  to  make  the  hearts  .of  the  mothers  quake 
M'ith  fear. 

It  was  that  evening  that  she  had  to  put  the  flowers 
overboard — on  the  wide  and  sad  and  uncertain  grave.  She 
did  not  wish  any  one  to  see  her,  somehow ;  she  could  not 
make  it  a  public  ceremony — this  compliance  with  the  pa- 
thetic, futile  wishes  of  the  poor  mother.  She  had  most 
carefully  kept  the  flowers  sprinkled  with  water,  and  despite 
of  that  they  had  got  sadly  faded  and  shrivelled  ;  but  she 
had  purchased  another  basketful  at  Malta,  and  these  were 
fresh  enough.  What  mattered  ?  The  time  was  too  vague  ; 
the  vessel's  course  too  uncertain ;  the  trifles  of  flowers 
would  soon  be  swallowed  up  in  the  solitary  sea.  But  it 
was  the  remembrance  of  the  mother  she  was  thinking 
of. 

She  chose  a  moment  when  every  one  was  down  below 
at  dinner,  and  the  deck  was  quite  deserted.  She  took  the 
two  little  baskets  to  the  rail ;  and  there,  very  slowly  and 
reverently,  she  took  out  handful  after  handful  of  the  flo \vers 
and  dropped  them  down  on  the  waves,  and  watched  them 
go  fioatmg  and  floating  out  and  out  on  the  swaying  waters. 
The  tears  were  running  down  her  face ;  but  she  had  for- 
gotten whether  there  was  anybody  by  cr  not.  She  was 
thinking  of  the  poor  woman  in  England.  Would  she  know? 


50  YOLAXDE. 

Could  she  see  ?  Was  she  sure  th.it  her  request  would  not 
be  forgotten  ?  And  indeed  she  had  not  gone  so  far  wrong 
when  she  had  trusted  to  the  look  of  Yolande's  face. 

Then,  fearing  her  absence  might  be  noticed,  sho  went 
quickly  to  her  cabin,  bathed  her  eyes  in  cold  water,  and 
then  vent  below— where  she  found  the  little  coterie  at  their 
end  ol  the  table  all  much  exercised  about  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne's  proposal  to  spend  the  autumn  among  the  wild  soli- 
tudes of  Allt-nam-Ba.  He,  indeed,  declared  he  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  It  was  Yolande's  doing.  lie  had  never 
heard  of  Allt-nam-Ba. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  best  grouse  moors  in  Scotland,  I  admit 
that,"  Colonel  Graham  said,  with  an  ominous  smile ;  "  but 
it  is  a  pretty  stiffish  place  to  work  over." 

"  You  talk  like  that,  Jim,"  said  his  wife  (who  seemed 
anxious  that  the  Winterbournes  should  preserve  their  fancy 
for  the  place),  "  because  you  are  getting  too  stout  for  hill 
work.  We  shall  find  you  on  a  pony  soon.  I  should  like  to 
see  you  shooting  from  the  back  of  a  pony." 

"  Better  men  than  I  have  done  that,"  said  Inverstroy, 
good-hunioredly. 

They  had  a  concert  that  night — not  a  ball,  as  was  at 
first  intended  ;  and  there  was  a  large  assemblage,  even  the 
young  gentlemen  of  the  smoking-room  having  forsaken 
their  Nap  when  they  heard  that  Mrs.  Graham  was  going  to 
sing.  And  very  well  she  sang,  too,  with  a  thoroughly 
trained  voice  of  very  considerable  compass.  She  sang  ail 
the  new  society  songs,  about  wild  melancholies  and  regrets 
and  things  of  that  kind  ;  but  her  voice  was  really  line  in 
quality  ;  and  one  almost  believed  for  the  moment  that  the 
pathos  of  these  spasmodic  things  was  true.  And  then  her 
— how  beautifully  it  fitted  her  neat  little  shoulders  and 
w:.i>t  !  Her  curly  short  hair  was  surmounted  by  a  coquet- 
tish cap;  she  had  a  circle  of  diamonds  set  in  silver  round 
her  neck;  but  there  were  no  rings  to  mar  the  symmetry  of 
her  plump  and  pretty  white  hands.  And  how  assiduous 
those  boy-oflieers  were,  although  deprived  of  their  cigars! 
They  hung  round  the  piano ;  they  turned  over  the  musio 
for  her — as  well  as  an  eyeglass  permitted  them  to  see ;  nay, 
when  she  asked,  one  of  them  sent  for  &  banjo,  and  performed 
a  solo  on  that  instrument — performing  it  very  well  too. 
None  of  the  unmarried  girls  had  the  "ghost  of  a  chance. 
Poor  Yolande,  in  her  plain  pale  pink  gown,  was  nowhere. 
All  eyea  wuro  directed  on  the  pretty  little  figure  at  the 


YOLAXDE.  51 

piano;  on  the  stylish  costume;  the  charming  profile,  with 
its  outward  sweep  of  black  lashes ;  on  the  graceful  arms 
and  white  fingers.  For  n  smile  from  those  clear  dark  gray 
eyes  there  was  not  one  of  the  tall  youths  standing  there 
who  would  not  have  sworn  to  abjure  sporting  newspapers 
for  the  rest  of  his  natural  life. 

There  was  only  one  drawback  to  the  concert,  as  a  con- 
cert. To  keep  the  saloon  cool  the  large  ports  astern  had 
been  opened,  and  the  noise  of  the  water  rushing  away  from 
the  screw  was  apt  to  drown  the  music. 

"Miss  Winterbourne,"  some  one  said  to  Yolande — and 
she  started,  for  she  had  been  sitting  at  one  of  the  tables, 
imagining  herself  alone,  and  dreaming  about  the  music — 
"one  can  hear  far  better  on  deck.  Won't  you  come  up 
and  try?" 

It  was  the  Master  of  Lynn. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  she  ;  "  thank  you." 

She  went  with  him  on  deck,  expecting  to  find  her  father 
there.  But  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  gone  to  the  smoking- 
room.  What  mattered  ?  All  companions  are  alike  on 
board  ship.  Young  Leslie  brought  her  a  chair,  and  put  it 
close  to  the  skylight  of  the  saloon,  and  he  sat  down  there 
too.  They  could  hear  pretty  well,  and  they  could  talk  in 
the  intervals.  The  night  was  beautifully  quiet,  and  the 
moonlight  whiter  than  ever  on  the  decks.  Those  Southern 
nights  were  soft  and  fitted  for  music;  they  seemed  to  blend 
the  singing  below  and  the  gentle  rushing  of  the  sea  all 
around.  And  Yolande  was  so  friendly — and  frank  to  plain 
spokenness.  Once  or  twice  she  laughed ;  it  was  a  low, 
quiet,  pretty  laugh. 

Such  were  the  perils  of  the  deep  that  lay  around  them 
as  they  sailed  along  those  Southern  seas.  And  at  last  they 
were  nearing  Malta.  On  the  night  before  they  expected  to 
reach  the  island  Mrs.  Graham  took  occasion  to  have  a  quiet 
chat  with  her  brother. 

"  Look  here,  Archie,  we  shall  all  be  going  ashore  to 
morrow,  I  suppose,"  said  she. 

"No  doubt." 

"And  I  dare  say,"  she  added,  fixing  her  clear,  pretty, 
shrewd  eyes  on  him,  "  that  you  will  be  going  away  to  the 
club  with  those  young  fellows,  and  we  shall  see  nothing  of 
you." 

tt  We  shall  be  all  over  the  place,  I  suppose,"  he  answered. 


'Most  likely  I  shall  lunch  at  the  club.  Graham  can  put 
me  down  ;  he  is  still  a  member,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  good  deal  more  sensible  like,"  said  his 
sister,  "  if  you  gave  us  lunch  at  a  hotel." 

"I?"  he  cried,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  like  that !  Consider- 
ing my  income  and  Inverstroy's  income,  a  proposal  of  that 
kiiid  strikes  one  with  a  sort  of  coolness — " 

**  I  didn't  mean  Jim  and  me  only,"  said  Mrs.  Graham, 
sharply.  "  Jim  can  pay  for  his  own  luncheon,  and  mine  too. 
Why  don't  you  ask  the  Winterbournes  ?  " 

This  was  a  new  notion  altogether. 

"  They  wouldn't  come,  would  they  ?  "  he  said,  diftident- 
ly.  "  It  is  not  a  very  long  acquaintance.  Still,  they  seem 
so  friendly,  and  I'd  like  it  awfully,  if  you  think  you  could 
get  Miss  Winterbourne  to  go  with  you.  Do  you  think  you 
could,  Polly?  Don't  you  see,  we  ought  to  pay  them  a  com- 
pliment— they've  taken  Allt-nam-Ba." 

"  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  distantly,  "  is 
going  ashore  with  me  to  morrow.  Of  course  we  must  have 
lunch  somewhere.  If  you  men  like  to  go  to  the  club,  very 
well  I  suppose  we  shall  manage." 

Well  perhaps  it  was  only  a  natural  thing  to  suggest. 
The  Winterbournes  had  been  kind  to  him.  Moreover,  wo- 
men do  not  like  to  be  left  to  walk  up  and  down  the  Strada 
Keale  by  themselves  when  they  know  that  their  hus- 
bands and  brothers  are  enjoying  themselves  in  the  Union 
Club.  But  it  is  probable  that  neither  Mrs.  Graham  nor 
the  young  Master  of  Lynn  quite  fully  recollected  that  at- 
tentions and  civilities  which  are  simple  and  customary  on 
board  ship — which  are  a  necessity  of  the  case  (people  con- 
senting to  become  intimate  and  familiar  through  being  con- 
stantly thrown  together) — may,  on  land,  where  one  returns 
to  the  conventionalities  of  existence,  suddenly  assume  a 
very  different  complexion,  and  may  even  appear  to  have  a 
ttartliiig  significance. 


YULA+VDJS.  58 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A     DAY     ASHORE. 

MOST  "  landward  "  people,  to  use  the  Scotch  phrase, 
would  imagine  that  on  board  ship  ladies  would  be  content 
with  any  rough-and-tumble  costume  that  would  serve  all 
purposes  from  morning  till  night.  But  on  a  long  voyage 
the  very  reverse  is  the  case.  Nowhere  else  do  women  dress 
with  more  elaborate  nicety,  and  with  such  studied  exhibi- 
tion of  variety  as  their  tolerably  capacious  wardrobes  per- 
mit. For  one  thing,  they  have  no  more  engrossing  occupa- 
tion. They  can  spend  hours  in  their  cabin  devising  new 
combinations  ;  and  as  many  of  them  are  going  to  live  abroad, 
they  have  with  them  all  their  worldly  gear  from  which  to 
pick  and  choose.  It  is  a  break  in  the  monotony  of  the  day 
to  have  one  dress  at  breakfast,  another  for  forenoon  games 
and  lunch,  another  for  the  afternoon  promenade,  another 
for  the  meal  of  state  in  the  evening.  Then  nowhere  else 
are  well-made  costumes  seen  to  such  advantage ;  the  deck 
is  a  wide  stage,  and  there  is  the  best  of  light  for  colors. 
Moreover,  in  a  woman's  eyes  it  is  worth  while  to  take 
trouble  about  dressing  well  on  board  ship  ;  for  it  is  no  fleet- 
ing glance  that  rewards  her  pains.  The  mere  change  of  a 
brooch  at  the  neck  is  noticed. 

But  all  the  innocent  little  displays  that  had  been  made 
during  the  long  voyage  wcM'e  as  nothing  on  board  this  ship 
to  the  grand  transformation  that  took  place  in  view  of  the 
landing  at  Malta.  The  great  vessel  was  now  lying  silent 
and  still,  her  screw  no  longer  thrcfbbing,  and  instead  of  the- 
wide,  monotonous  circle  of  water  around  her,  here  were 
blue  arms  of  the  sea  running  into  the  gray-green  island  ; 
and  great  yellow  bastions  along  the  shore  ;  and  over  these 
again  a  pale  white  and  pink  town  straggling  along  the  low- 
lying  hills.  After  breakfast  the  men-folk  were  left  in  un- 
disturbed possession  of  the  deck.  Tliey  were  not  anxious 
about  their  costume — at  least  the  middle-aged  ones  were 
not.  They  smoked  their  cigars,  and  leaned  over  the  rail, 
and  watched  the  swarm  of  gayly  painted  boats  that  were 
waiting  to  take  them  ashore.  And  perhaps  some  of  them 


§4 

were  beginning  to  wish  the  that  women  would  look  alive  ; 
for  already  the  huge  barges  filled  with  coal  were  drawing 
near,  and  soon  the  vessel  would  be  enveloped  in  clouds  of 
dust. 

Then  the  women  began  to  come  up,  one  by  one;  but  all 
transformed !  They  were  scarcely  recognizable  by  mere 
acquaintances.  There  was  about  them  the  look  of  a  Sunday 
afternoon  in  Kensington  Gardens ;  and  it  was  strange 
enough  on  the  deck  of  a  ship.  People  who  had  been  on 
sufficiently  friendly  terms  now  grew  a  little  more  reserved  ; 
these  land  costumes  reminded  them  that  on  shore  they 
might  have  less  claim  to  a  free  and  easy  companionship. 
And  Mr.  Winterbourne  grew  anxious.  Did  Yolande  know? 
The  maid  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  whose  services  she 
had  agreed  to  share  with  Mrs.  Graham,  had  been  useless 
enough  from  the  moment  she  put  foot  on  board  the  ship ; 
but  surely  she  must  have  learned  what  was  going  forward  ? 
Perhaps  Yolande  would  appear  in  her  ordinary  pale  pink 
morning  dress?  She  was  far  too  content  with  simplicity 
in  costume.  Again  and  again  he  had  had  to  rebuke  her. 

"  Why  don't  you  have  more  dresses  ?  "  he  had  said  to 
her  on  board  this  very  ship.  "  Look  at  Mrs.  Graham.  Why 
don't  you  have  as  many  dresses  as  Mrs.  Graham?  A  mar- 
ried lady?  What  difference  does  that  make?  I  like  to 
see  you  prettily  dressed.  When  I  want  you  to  save  money, 
I  will  tell  you.  You  can't  get  them  at  sea?  Weil,  of  course 
not;  but  you  might  have  got  them  on  shore.  And  if  it 
meant  more  trunks,  what  is  the  use  of  Jane  ?  " 

lie  was  a  nervous  and  fidgety  man,  and  he  was  beginning 
to  be  really  concerned  about  Yolande's  appearance,  when 
lie  caught  a  glimpse  of  Yolande  herself  coming  out  on  to 
the  deck  from  the  companion  way.  He  was  instantly  satisfied. 
There  was  nothing  striking  about  her  dress,  it  is  true — the 
skirt  and  sleeves  were  of  dark  blue  velvet,  the  rest  of  dark 
blue  linen,  and  she  wore  her  white  silver  belt — but  at  all 
events  it  was  different ;  and  then  the  flat  dark  blue  Scotch 
cap  looked  pretty  enough  on  her  ruddy  golden  hair.  In- 
deed, he  need  not  have  been  afraid  that  Yolande  would 
have  appeared  insignificant  anyhow  or  any  where.  Her  tall 
stature;  her  slender  and  graceful  figure;  her  air  and  carri- 
age— all  these  rendered  her  quite  sufficiently  distinguished- 
looking,  even  when  one  was  not  near  enough  to  know  any- 
thing of  the  fascination  of  her  eyes  and  the  pretty  pathetic 
mouth. 


YOLANDE.  55 

And  yet  lie  was  so  anxious  that  she  should  acquit  her- 
self well— he  was  so  proud  of  her — that  he  went  to  her 
quickly  and  said, — 

"  That  is  one  of  the  prettiest  of  your  dresses,  Yolande — 
very  pretty — and  it  suits  your  silver  girdle  very  well ;  but 
the  Scotch  cap — well,  that  suits  you  too,  you  know — " 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Graham's,  papa.  She  asked  me  to  wear  it 
— in  honor  of  Allt-nam-Ba." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said.  "  That  is  all  very  well — at  Allt- 
nam-Ba.  It  is  very  pretty — and  Jane  has  done  your  hair 
very  nicely  this  morning — " 

"  I  have  not  had  a  glimpse  of  Jane  this  morning,"  Yo- 
lande said  with  a  laugh.  "  Could  I  be  so  cruel?  No.  Mrs. 
Graham  going  ashore,  and  I  to  take  Jane  away — how  could 
I?" 

"  I  don't  like  the  arrangement,"  her  father  said,  with  a 
frown.  "  Why  should  you  not  have  the  help  of  your  own 
maid  ?  But  about  the  cap,  Yolande — look,  these  other 
ladies  are  dressed  as  if  they  were  going  to  church.  The  cap 
would  be  very  pretty  at  a  garden  party — at  lawn  tennis — 
but  I  think — " 

"  Oh,  yes  I  will  put  on  a  bonnet,"  said  Yolande,  instant- 
ly. "  It  is  not  to  please  Mrs.  Graham,  it  is  to  please  you, 
that  I  care  for,  One  minute — " 

But  who  was  this  who  intercepted  her  ?  Not  the  lazy  young 
fellow  who  used  to  lounge  about  the  decks  in  a  shooting  coat, 
with  a  cigarette  scarcely  ever  absent  from  his  tinger  or  lips ; 
but  a  most  elegant  young  gentleman  in  tali  hat  and  frock- 
coat,  who  was  dresssed  with  the  most  remarkable  precision, 
from  his  collar  and  stiff  necktie  to  his  snow-white  gaiters 
and  patent  leather  boots 

"Are  you  ready  to  go  ashore,  Miss  Wintcrbourne?" 
said  he,  smoothing  his  gloves  the  while.  "  My  sister  is  just 
coining  up." 

"  In  one  minute,"  said  she:  "  I  am  going  for  a  bonnet 
instead  of  my  Scotch  cap — " 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  said,  quickly  ;  '*  please  don't.  Please  wear 
the  cap.  You  have  no  idea  how  well  it  becomes  you.  And 
it  would  be  so  kind  of  you  to  pny  a  compliment  to  the 
Highlands — I  think  half  the  officers  on  board  belong  to  the 
Seaforth  Highlanders — and  if  we  go  to  look  at  the  club — " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  said,  passing  him  with  a  friendly 
smile.  "  I  am  not  going  en.  vicandiere.  Perhaps  I  will 
borrow  the  cup  some  other  time — at  Allt-nam-Ba." 


56  YOLANDE. 

Mr.  Winterbonrne  overheard  this  little  conversation — in 
fact,  the  three  of  them  were  almost  standing  together  ;  and 
whether  it  was  that  the  general  excitement  throughout  the 
vessel  had  also  affected  him,  or  whether  it  was  that  the  mera 
sight  of  all  these  people  in  different  costumes  had  made  him 
suddenly  conscious  of  what  were  their  real  relations,  not 
their  ship  relations — it  certainly  startled  him  to  hear  the 
young  Master  of  Lynn,  apparently  on  the  same  familiar  foot- 
ing as  himself,  advise  Yolande  as  to  what  became  her.  The 
next  step  was  inevitable.  He  was  easily  alarmed.  He  re- 
called his  friend  Shortlands's  remark — which  he  had  rather 
resented  at  the  time — that  a  P.  and  O.  voyage  would  marry 
off  anybody  who  wanted  to  get  married.  I  le  thought  of  Yo- 
lande ;  and  he  was  stricken  dumb  with  a  nameless  fear.  Was 
she  going  away  from  him  ?  Was  some  one  else  about  to 
supplant  him  in  her  affections  ?  These  two  had  been  in  a 
very  literal  sense  all  the  world  to  each  other.  They  had 
been  constant  companions.  They  knew  few  people  ;  for  he 
lived  in  a  lonely,  nomadic  kind  of  way  ;  and  Yolande  never 
seemed  to  care  for  any  society  but  his  own.  And  now  was 
she  going  away  from  him  ?  " 

Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  just  ar- 
ranged to  take  her  away  into  those  wild  solitudes  in  the 
Highlands,  where  the  Leslies  would  be  their  only  neighbors. 
It  seemed  more  and  more  inevitable.  But  why  not  ?  Why 
should  not  this  happen  ?  He  nerved  himself  to  face  the 
worst.  Yolande  must  marry  some  day.  lie  had  declared 
to  John  Shortlands  that  he  almost  wished  she  would  marry 
now.  And  how  could  she  marry  better?  This  young  fel- 
low was  of  good  birth  and  education  ;  well  mannered  and 
modest :  altogether  unexceptionable,  as  far  as  one  could 
judge.  And  Mr.  Wintcrbotirne  had  been  judging,  uncon- 
sciously to  himself.  He  had  observed  in  the  smoking-room 
and  elsewhere  that  young  Leslie  was  inclined  to  be 
cautious  about  the  expenditure  of  money — at  cards  or  other- 
wise ;  but  was  not  that  rather  a  good  trait  ?  The  family 
was  not  wealthy  ;  the  present  Lord  Lynn  had  been  engaged 
nil  his  life  in  slowly  paying  off  the  mortgages  on  the  family 
estates;  and  no  doubt  this  young  fellow  had  been  economi- 
cally brought  up.  And  then  again — if  Yolande  were  to 
marry  at  all — would  it  not  be  better  that  she  should  be  trans- 
ferred to  that  distant  and  safe  solitude  ?  Yolande  as  the 
mistress  of  Lynn  Towers,  far  away  there  in  the  seclusion  of 
the  hills,  living  a  happy  and  pencet'ul  life,  free  from  scath  and 


YOLANDE.  57 

terror;  that  was  a  fancy  that  pleased  him.  It  seemed  no* 
BO  terrible  now  that  Yolande  should  marry — at  least — at 
least  he  would  face  the  worst,  and  strive  to  look  at  the 
pleasanter  aspect  of  it.  She  would  be  far  away  and  safe. 

These  anxious,  rapid  struggling  thoughts  had  not  oc- 
cupied a  couple  of  minutes.  Yolande  appeared,  and  he  was 
almost  afraid  to  regard  her.  Might  there  not  be  something 
of  the  future  written  in  her  face  ?  Indeed,  there  was  noth- 
ing there  but  a  pleasant  interest  about  the  going  on  shore  : 
and  when  she  accepted  a  little  nosegay  that  the  Master  of 
Lynn  brought  her,  and  pinned  it  on  her  dress,  it  was  with  a 
smile  of  thanks,  but  with — to  any  unconcerned  eye — the 
very  frankest  indifference. 

The  Grahams  now  announced  themselves  as  ready;  and 
the  party  descended  the  gangway  into  the  boat — young 
Leslie  preceding  them  so  as  to  hand  Yolande  into  her  place. 

"  Mr.  Winterbourne,"said  he,  when  they  were  all  seated 
under  the  awning,  and  sailing  away  through  the  lapping 
green  water,  "  I  hope  you  and  your  daughter  will  coiue  and 
lunch  with  us — " 

"  Oh,  yes  of  course,"  said  he  :  did  they  not  make  one 
party  ? 

14  But  what  I  mean  is  this,"  said  the  Master  of  Lynn  ;  "  I 
am  giving  those  Graham  people  their  lunch — the  cormor- 
ants ! — and  Lynn  Towers  is  a  long  way  off;  and  I  haven't 
often  the  chance  of  playing  host ;  and  so  I  want  you  and 
Miss  Winterbourne  also  to  be  my  guests  at  the Hotel." 

"  Oh,  thanks ;  very  well,"  said  Yolande's  father  who 
had  begun  now  to  study  this  young  man  with  the  most 
observant  but  cautious  scrutiny,  and  was  in  a  strange  kind 
of  way  anxious  to  be  pleased  with  him. 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  the  club  they  were 
nil  speaking  of,"  said  Yolande,  staring  at  him.  "  Captain 
Douglass  told  me  so." 

"  Captain  Douglass  thinks  he  knows  everything,"  said 
young  Leslie,  good-naturedly;  "whereas  he  knows  nothing 
except  how  to  play  sixpenny  loo." 

"  But  we  will  all  go  to  the  club,  Miss  Yolande,"  said 
Colonel  Graham,  "  and  you  shall  see  the  ballroom.  Very 
fine.  I  don't  know  what  the  high-art  fellows  nowadays 
would  think  of  it.  I  used  to  think  it  uncommonly  fine- 
in  by-gone  times.  Gad,  I'm  not  so  fond  of  dancing  now." 

"You  can  dance  as  well  as  ever  you  did,  Jim,  only 
you're  so  lazy,"  his  wife  said,  sharply. 


58  YOLANDE. 

"  You'll  have  to  give  them  a  torchlight  dance,  Archie,' 
|he  colonel  continued,  "  tlie  first  stag  Mr.  Winterbourne 
kills.    Miss  Yolande  would  like  to  look  at  that.    And  you're 
pretty  good  yourself  at  the  sword  dance.      I  once  could  do 
it,  in  a  way — " 

"  Jim,  I  won't  have  you  talk  as  if  you  were  an  old  man," 
his  wife  said,  angrily.  "  I  don't  care  about  you  ;  I  care 
about  myself.  I  won't  have  you  talk  like  that.  Everybody 
on  board  thinks  I'm  forty." 

"  You  are  not  so  you-ng  as  you  once  were,  you  know, 
Polly." 

But  Mrs.  Graham  was  much  too  radiant  a  coquette  to 
be  put  out  by  any  impertinent  speech  like  that.  She  was 
too  sure  of  herself.  She  knew  what  her  glass  told  her — 
and  the  half-concealed  admiration  of  a  whole  shipful  of 
people.  She  could  afford  to  treat  such  speeches  with  con- 
tempt. And  so  they  reached  the  shore. 

They  refused  to  have  a  carriage ;  preferring  rather  to 
climb  away  up  the  steep  steps,  and  away  up  the  steep  little 
streets,  until  they  reached  those  high  and  narrow  thorough- 
fares (with  their  pink  and  yellow  houses  and  pretty  balconies, 
and  green  casements)  that  were  so  cool  and  pleasant  to 
wander  through.  Sometimes  the  sun,  though  shut  out, 
sent  a  reflected  light  down  into  these  streets  in  so  peculiar 
a  fashion  that  the  pink  fronts  of  the  houses  looked  quite 
transparent,  and  not  unfrequently,  at  the  far  end  of  the 
thoroughfare,  the  vista  was  closed  in  by  a  narrow  band  of 
the  deepest  and  intensest  blue — the  high  horizon-line  of  the 
distant  sua.  They  went  up  to  St.  John's  Bastion  to  look 
at  the  wiidcrness  of  geraniums  and  lotus-trees.  They  went 
to  St.  John's  Church.  They  went  to  the  telegraph  oflice, 
where  the  Master  of  Lynn  sent  off  this  message  : — 

Archibald  Leslie, Hotel  Malta. 

Jlonald  MacPherson,  High  Street,  Inverness. 
Consider  Allt-nam-Ba,  ifunlet,  taken  by  Winterbourne^ 
M.  2*.    tilagpool,  Seoen  hundred  fifty.     Reply. 

They  went  to  see  the  Governor's  Garden,  and,  in  short, 
all  the  sights  of  the  placo  ;  but  what  charmed  the  women- 
folks most  of  all  was,  naturally,  the  great  ballroom  at  the 
Union  Club.  As  they  stood  in  the  big,  empty,  hollow- 
resounding  place,  Yolande  said  : — 

'•Oh  ves,  it  is  honutiful.      It  must  be  cool,  with  such  a 


YOLANDE.  59 

hie:h  roof.  Papa,  have  they  as  fine  a  ballroom  at  the  Re- 
form Club?" 

"The  Reform  Club?"  her  father  repeated — rather 
vexed  that  she  should  make  such  a  blunder.  "Of  course 
not.  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  said.  "  Every  one  says  this  is  a  good 
club — and  very  English.  Why  not  at  the  Reform  Club? 
Is  that  why  you  have  never  taken  me  there  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is — it  is  devilish  English  looking,"  said 
Colonel  Graham  to  his  wife  as  they  turned  into  the  long 
and  cool  coffee-room,  where  there  were  rows  of  small  tables, 
all  nicely  furnished  out.  "I  like  it.  It  reminds  me  of  old 
times.  I  like  to  see  the  fellows  in  the  old  uniforms ;  it 
makes  one's  heart  warm.  Hanged  if  I  don't  have  a  glass 
of  sherry  and  bitters,  just  to  see  if  it  tastes  like  the  real 
thing — or  a  brandy  and  soda.  It's  devilish  like  home.  I 
don't  like  being  waited  on  by  these  Lascar-Portuguese-half- 
nigger  fellows.  My  chap  said  to  me  yesterday  at  break- 
fast, when  I  asked  for  poached  eggs,  'No  go  yet — when  go 
bell  me  bring.'  And  another  fellow,  when  I  asked  for  my 
bath,  said,  '  Hot  water  no  go — when  go  hot  water,  me  tell.' 
By  Gad  !  there's  old  Monroe — the  fellow  that  nailed  the 
Sepoys  at  Azimghur — he's  got  as  fat  as  a  turkey-cock — " 

Indeed,  the  members  of  the  club — mostly  oilicers 
apparently — were  now  coming  in  to  lunch ;  and  soon 
Colonel  Graham  was  fairly  mobbed  by  old  friends  and 
acquaintances,  insomuch  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  was 
drawn  away  to  the  banquet  that  young  Leslie — taking 
advantage  of  the  stay  of  the  party  in  St.  John's  Church — 
had  had  prepared  for  them  at  the  hotel.  It  was  a  modest 
feast,  but  merry  enough ;  and  the  table  \vas  liberally 
adorned  with  flowers,  of  which  there  is  no  lack  in  Malta. 
Colonel  Graham  was  much  excited  with  meeting  these  old 
friends,  and  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  them;  his  wife 
was  glad  to  have  a  rest  after  so  much  walking.  Yolande 
was  naturally  interested  in  the  foreign  look  of  the  place 
and  the  people  ;  and  young  Leslie,  delighted  to  have  the 
honor  of  being  host,  played  that  part  with  much  tact  and 
modesty  and  skill. 

To  Mr.  Winterbourne  it  was  strange.  Yolande  seemed 
to  half  belong  to  these  people  already  Mrs.  Graham 
appeared  lo  claim  her  as  a  sister.  On  board  ship  these 
things  were  not  so  noticeable;  for  of  course  they  met  nt 
meals  ;  and  the  same  groups  that  were  formed  at  table  had 


£0  YOLANDE. 

a  tendency  t,o  draw  together  again  on  deck  or  in  the  saloon. 
But  here  was  this  small  party  cut  off  from  all  the  rest  of  the 
passengers,  and  they  were  entirely  on  the  footing  of  old 
friends,  and  the  Master  of  Lynn's  anxiety  to  please  Yolande 
was  most  marked  and  distinct.  On  board  ship  it  would 
scarcely  have  been  noticed';  here  it  was  obvious  to  the 
most  careless  eye.  And  yet,  when  he  turned  to  Yolande 
herself,  who,  as  might  have  been  imagined,  ought  to  have, 
been  conscious  that  she  was  being  singled  out  for  a  very  spe- 
cial attention  and  courtesey,  he  could  read  no  such  conscious- 
ness in  her  face — nothing  but  a  certain  pleasant  friendliness 
and  indifference.'1 

After  luncheon  they  went  away  for  a  long  drive  to  see 
more  sights,  and  in  the  afternoon  returned  to  the  hotel,  be- 
fore going  on  board.  Young  Leslie  was  thinking  of  leaving 
instructions  that  the  telegram  from  Inverness  should  be  for- 
warded on  to  Cairo,  when,  fortunately,  it  arrived.  It  read 
curiously : — 

Ronald  MacPherson, 
Estate  (Uid  Colliery  Agent, 
High  /Street,  Inverness. 

The  Honorable  the  Master  of  Lynn, 

of  the  P.  and  O.  Company's  ^team-ship , 

The Hotel,  Malta. 

Right. 

"  Now  what  on  earth —  Oh,  I  see !  "  exclaimed  the  re- 
cipient of  this  telegram,  after  starting  at  it  in  a  bewildered 
fashion  for  a  moment.  "  I  see.  Here  is  a  most  beautiful 
joke.  MacPherson  has  wanted  to  be  clever — has  found  out 
that  telegraphing  to  Malta  is  pretty  dear;  thinks  he  will 
make  the  message  as  short  as  possible,  but  will  take  it  out  in 
the  address.  I  am  certain  that  is  it.  lie  has  fancied  the  ad- 
dress was  free,  as  in  England  ;  and  he  has  sent  his  clerk  to 
the  office.  Wonit  the  clerk  catch  it  when  he  goes  back  and 
says  what  ho  has  paid!  That  is  re:il  Highland  shrewdness. 
Never  mind  ;  you  have  got  the  shooting,  Mr.  Winterbourne. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that. "  said  Volamle's  father,  rather 
absently;  for  now,  when  he  thought  of  the  solitudes  of  Allt- 
narn-ba,  it  was  not  of  stags,  or  grouse,  or  mountain  hares, 
that  he  was  thinking. 

They  got  on  board  again,  and  almost  immediately  went 
below  to  prepare  fur  dinner,  for  the  decks  were  still  dirlv 


YOLANDE.  61 

with  the  coal  dust.  And  tba,  night  they  were  again  at  sea 
— far  away  in  the  silences;  and  a  small  group  of  them  were 
up  at  tin1  end  of  the  saloon,  practising  glees  for  the  next 
grand  concert.  Mr.  Winterbourne  was  on  deck,  walking  up 
and  down,  alone;  and  perhaps  trying  to  fancy  how  it  would 
he  with  him  when  he  was  really  left  alone,  and  Yolande  en- 
tirely away  from  him,  with  other  cares  and  occupations. 
And  he  was  striving  to  convince  himself  that  that  would  bo 
best;  that  he  would  himself  feel  happier  if  Yolande's  future 
in  life  were  secured  ;  if  he  could  see  her  the  contented  and 
proud  mistress  of  Lynn  Towers.  Here  on  board  this  ship, 
it  might  seem  a  hard  thing  that  they  should  separate,  even 
though  the  separation  were  only  a  mitigated  one ;  but  if  they 
were  back  in  England  again,  he  knew  those  terrible  fears 
would  again  beset  him,  and  that  it  would  be  the  first  wish 
of  his  heart  that'  Yolande  should  get  married,  At  Lynn 
Towers  he  might  see  her  sometimes.  It  was  remote,  and 
quiet,  and  safe  ;  sometimes  Yolande  and  he  would  walk  to- 
gether there. 

Meanwhile  down  below  they  had  finished  their  practic- 
ing ;  and  the  Master  of  Lynn  was  idly  turning  over  a  book 
of  glees. 

*'  Polly,"  said  he  to  his  sister,  **  I  like  that  one  as  well  as 
any — I  mean  the  words.  Don't  you  think  they  apply  very 
Well  to  Miss  Winterbourne?" 

His  sister  took  the  book  and  read  Sheridan's  lines  : 

"  Marked  you  her  eye  of  heavenly  blue  ? 
Marked  you  her  cheek  of  roseate  hue  ? 
That  eye  in  liquid  circles  moving  ; 
That  cheek  abashed  at  man's  approving 
The  one  love's  arrows  darting  round. 
The  other  blushing  at  the  wound. 

Well,  the  music  of  this  glee  is  charming,  and  the  words  arp 
well  enough  ;  but  when  the  Master  of  Lynn  ventured  the 
opinion  that  these  were  a  good  description  of  Yolande,  he 
never  made  a  worse  shot  in  his  life.  Yolande  "  abashed  at 
man's  approving"  ?  She  let  no  such  nonsense  get  into  her 
head.  She  was  a  little  too  proud  for  that — or  perhaps  only 
o&reless  and  indifferent. 


YOLANDE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

RECONNAISSANCES. 

"  I  DON'T  believe  in  any  such  simplicity.    Men  may 
women  don't.     It  seems  to  me  more  the  simplicity  of  an 
accomplished  flirt." 

The  speaker  was  Mrs.  Graham,  and  she  spoke  with  an 
air  of  resentment. 

"  You  don't  know  her,"  said  the  Master  of  Lynn,  with 
involuntary  admiration. 

"I  suppose  you  think  you  do,"  his  sister  said,  with  a 
"  superior  "  smile.  And  then — perhaps  she  was  tired  of 
hearing  so  much  in  praise  of  Yolande,  or  perhaps  she  wished 
her  brother  to  be  cautious,  or  perhaps  she  was  merely  gra- 
tuitously malicious — she  said,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is :  I 
should  not  be  at  all  surprised  to  hear  that  she  was  engaged, 
and  has  been  engaged  for  any  length  of  time." 

He  was  struck  silent  by  this  fierce  suggestion  ;  it  be- 
wildered him  for  a  second  or  two.  Then  he  exclaimed : — 

"Oh,  that  is  absurd — perfectly  absurd!  I  know  she  is 
not." 

"  It  would  be  a  joke,"  continued  his  sister,  with  a  sar- 
donic smile,  "  if  that  were  the  explanation  of  the  wonderful 
friendliness  that  puzzles  you  so  much.  If  she  is  engaged, 
of  course  she  has  no  further  care  or  embarrassment.  Every- 
thing is  settled.  She  is  as  frank  with  Dick  as  with  Tom 
and  Harry.  Oh,  Archie,  that  would  be  a  joke !  How  Jim 
would  laugh  at  you !  " 

"  But  it  isn't  true,"  he  said,  angrily,  "  and  you  know  it 
isn't.  It  is  quite  absurd." 

"  I  will  find  out  for  you  if  you  like,"  his  sister  said, 
calmly.  And  here  the  conversation  ceased,  for  Colonel 
Graham  at  this  moment  came  along  to  ask  his  brother-in- 
law  for  a  light. 

They  were  Jigain  away  from  the  land,  perhaps  even  for- 
getful that  such  a  tiling  existed.  It  seemed  quite  natural 
to  get  up  morning  after  morning  to  find  around  them  the 
same  bright,  brilliant  monotony  of  white-crested  blue  seal 
and  sunlit  decks  and  fair  skies  ;  and  each  day  passed  with 


YOLANDE.  63 

the  usnal  amusements  ;  and  then  came  the  still  moonlight 
night,  with  all  its  mysterious  charm  and  loneliness.  It  was 
a  delightful  life,  especially  for  the  Grahams  and  Winter- 
bournes,  who  were  going  nowhere  in  particular,  but  had 
come  chiefly  for  the  voyage  itself.  And  it  was  a  life  the 
very  small  incidents  of  which  excited  interest,  simply  be- 
cause people  had  plenty  of  time  to  consider  them — and 
each  other. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  Yolande  had  become  a  pretty 
general  favorite ;  for  she  found  herself  very  much  at  home  ; 
and  she  put  aside  a  good  deal  of  that  reserve  which  she 
assumed  in  travelling  on  land.  These  people  could  in  no 
sense  be  considered  strangers ;  they  were  all  too  kind  to 
her.  The  ship's  officers  brought  her  the  charts  out  of  the 
chart-room,  to  show  her  how  far  the  vessel  had  got  on  her 
course.  The  captain  allowed  her  to  go  on  the  bridge,  and 
gave  her  his  own  glass  when  a  distant  sail  was  to  be  seen. 
And  the  young  soldiers,  when  they  were  not  in  the  smoking- 
room,  and  when  they  were  not  picking  up  rope  quoits  for 
Mrs.  Graham,  had  an  eye  on  the  many  strayed  birds  fluttei- 
ing  about,  and  when  they  could  they  caught  one  and  brought 
it  to  Miss  Winterbourne,  who  was  glad  to  take  the  wild-eyed 
fluttering  wanderer  down  into  the  saloon  and  put  its  beak 
for  a  second  or  two  into  a  glass  of  fresh  water.  The  swal- 
lows were  the  most  easily  caught ;  they  were  either  more 
exhausted  or  more  tan\e  than  the  quails  and  thrushes  and 
ringdoves.  Once  or  twice  Yolande  herself  caught  one  of 
these  swallows,  and  the  beautiful  bronze-blue  creature  seemed 
not  anxious  to  get  away  from  her  hand.  Mrs.  Graham  said 
it  was  too  ludicrous  to  see  the  major  of  a  Highland  regi- 
ment— a  man  six  feet  two  in  height,  with  a  portentously 
grave  face — screw  his  eyeglass  into  its  place,  and  set  off  to 
stalk  a  dead-tired  thrush,  pursuing  it  along  the  awning,  and 
from  boat  to  boat.  But  all  the  same  these  warriors  seemed 
pleased  enough  when  they  could  bring  to  Yolande  one  of 
these  trembling  captives,  and  when  she  took  the  poor  thing 
carefully  into  her  hands,  and  looked  up,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
thank  you."  It  ought  to  be  mentioned  that  the  short  upper 
lip  of  the  girl,  though  it  had  the  pathetic  droop  at  the 
corners  which  has  been  mentioned — and  which  an  artist 
friend  of  the  writer  says  ought  to  have  been  described  aa 
Cupid's  bow  being  drawn  slightly — lent  itself  very  readily 
to  a  smile. 

Mrs.   Graham   watched  for  a  chance   of  speaking  to 


01  YOLANDE. 

Yolande,  and  soon  found  it.  She  went  to  the  girl,  who  was 
standing  by  the  rail  on  the  hurricane-deck,  and  put  her  arm 
most  affectionately  round  her,  and  said  : — 

"  My  dear  child  what  are  you  staring  into  the  sea  for  ? 
Do  you  expect  to  see  dolphins?" 

"  I  was  wondering  what  made  the  water  so  blue,"  said 
she,  raising  herself  somewhat.  "  It  is  not  the  sky.  If  you 
look  at  the  water  for  awhile,  and  turn  to  the  sky,  the  sky 
is  a  pale  washed-out  purple.  What  a  wonderful  blue  it  is, 
too  ;  it  seems  to  me  twenty  times  more  intense  than  the 
blue  of  the  water  along  the  Riviera." 

"  You  have  been  along  the  Riviera?'* 

"  Oh,  two  or  three  times,"  said  Yolande.  "  We  always 
go  that  way  into  Italy." 

"  You  must  have  travelled  a  great  deal',  from  what  I 
hear." 

"Yes,"  said  Yolande,  with  a  slight  sigh,  "  I  am  afraid  it 
is  a  great  misfortune.  It  is  papa's  kindness  to  me;  but  I 
am  sorry.  It  takes  him  away.  At  one  time  he  said  it  was 
my  education  ;  but  now  we  both  laugh  at  that — for  a  pre- 
tence. Oh,  I  assure  you  we  are  such  bad  travellers — we 
nover  go  to  see  anything  that  we  ought  to  see.  When  we 
go  to  Venice  we  go  to  the  Lido  and  the  sands,  but  to  the 
churches  ? — no.  In  Egypt  you  will  have  to  do  all  the  sight- 
seeing; you  will  find  us,  oh,  so  very  lazy  that  you  cannot 
imagine  it;  you  will  go  and  see  the  tombs  and  the  inscrip- 
tions, and  papa  and  I,  we  will  take  a  walk  and  look  at  the 
river  until  you  come  back." 

"  What  a  strange  life  to  have  led  !  "  said  her  friend,  who 
had  her  own  point  in  view.  "  And  among  all  your  wander- 
ings did  you  never  meet  the  one  who  is  to  be  nearer  and 
dearer  ?  " 

"Nearer  and  dearer?  "said  Yolande,  looking  puzzled. 
Papa  is  nearer  and  dearer  to  me  than  any  one  or  anything 
— naturally.  That  is  why  we  are  always  satisfied  to  be  to- 
gether ;  that  is  what  makes  our  travelling  so  consoling — 
no — so — so  contented." 

"  But  what  I  mean  is — now  forgive  me,  dear  Yolande  ; 
you  know  I'm  a  very  impertinent  woman — I  mean,  in  all 
your  travels,  have  you  never  come  across  some  one  whom 
you  would  care  to  marry?  Indeed,  indeed,  you  must  have 
met  many  a  one  who  would  have  been  glad  to  carry  you 
off — that  I  can  tell  you  without  flattery." 

«*  Indeed,  not  any  one,"  said  Yolande,  with  a  perfectly 


YOLANDE.  6f) 

frank  laugh,  "  That  is  not  what  I  would  ever  think  of. 
That  is  not  what  I  wish."  And  then  she  added,  with  an 
air  of  sadness  :  "  Perhaps  I  am  never  to  have  what  I  wish 
— it  is  a  pity,  a  misfortune." 

"  What  is  it  then,  dear  Tolande  ?  In  your  father's  posi- 
tion I  don't  see  what  there  is  in  the  world  he  could  not  get 
for  you.  You  see  I  am  curious;  lam  very  impertinent: 
but"!  should  like  to  treat  you  as  my  own  sister  ;  I  am  not 
quite  old  enough  to  act  as  a  mother  to  you,  for  all  that  Jim 
Bays." 

"  Oh,  it  is  simple  enough  ;  it  does  not  sound  difficult," 
Yolande  said.  "  Come,  we  will  sit  down,  and  I  will  tell 
you." 

They  sat  down  on  two  deck-chairs  that  happened  to  be 
handy,  and  Mrs  Graham  took  the  girl's  hand  in  hers,  because 
she  really  liked  her,  although  at  times  human  nature  broke 
down,  and  she  thought  her  husband  was  carrying  his  praises 
of  Yolande  just  a  trifle  too  far. 

"  When  I  have  met  English  ladies  abroad,"  said  Yolande, 
"and  the  one  or  two  families  I  knew  in  London,  it  was  so 
nice  to  hear  them  talk  of  their  homes — perhaps  in  the 
country,  where  every  one  seemed  to  know  them,  and  they 
had  so  many  interests,  so  many  affections.  They  were 
proud  of  that.  It  was  a  tie.  They  were  not  merely  wan 
derers.  Even  your  brother,  dear  Mrs.  Graham,  he  has  filled 
me  with  envy  of  him  when  he  has  told  me  of  the  district 
around  Lynn  Towers,  and  seeming  to  know  every  one,  and 
always  settled  there,  and  capable  to  make  friends  for  a  life- 
time, not  for  a  few  hours  in  a  hotel.  What  place  do  I  real- 
ly know  in  the  world ;  what  place  do  they  really  know  me  ? 
A  little  village  in  France  that  you  never  heard  of.  And  I 
am  English.  I  am  not  French.  Ah,  yes,  that  is  wh.-it  I 
have  many  a  time  wished — that  my  papa  would  have  a 
house  like  others — in  the  country? — yes — or  in  the  town? 
— yes — what  does  that  matter  to  me  ?  And  I  should  make 
it  pretty  for  him,  and  he  would  have  a  home — not  a  hotel ; 
also  I  have  thought  of  being  a  secretary  to  him,  but  perhaps 
that  is  too  much  beyond  what  is  possible.  Do  you  think  I 
can  imagine  anything  about  marrying  when  this  far  more 
serious  thing  is  what  I  wish  ?  Do  you  think  that  any  one 
can  be  nearer  and  dearer  to  me  than  the  one  who  has  given 
me  all  his  affection,  all  his  life,  who  thinks  only  of  me,  who 
has  sacrificed  already  far  too  much  for  me  ?  Who  else  has 
done  that  for  me  ?  And  vou  would  not  have  me  ungrateful  f 


66  OLANDE. 

Besides,  also,  it  is  selfish.  I  do  not  like  the  society  of  any 
one  nearly  so  much  ;  why  should  I  change  for  a  stranger? 
But  it  is  not  necessary  to  speak  of  that ;  it  is  a  stupidity. 
But  now  I  have  told  you  what  I  wish  for,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible." 

Mrs.  Graham  was  convinced.  There  was  no  affectation 
here.  The  Master  of  Lynn  had  no  rival,  at  all  events. 

"Do  you  know,  my  dear  child,  you  talk  very  sensibly," 
said  she,  patting  her  nand.  "  And  I  don't  see  why  your 
papa  should  not  give  you  two  homes — one  in  the  country 
and  one  in  town — for  I  am  sure  every  one  says  he  is  wealthy 
enough.  But  perhaps  this  is  the  reason.  Of  course  you 
will  marry — no,  stay  a  minute — I  tell  you,  you  are  sure  to 
marry.  Why,  the  idea!  Well,  then, in  that  case,  it  might 
be  better  for  your  papa  not  to  have  a  household  to  break 
up;  he  could  attend  to  his  Parliamentary  duties  very  well 
if  he  lived  in  the  Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  for  example, 
and  be  free  from  care — " 

Yolande's  mouth  went  very  far  down  this  time. 

"  Yes,  that  may  be  it,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  that  will 
happen.  I  know  I  have  taken  away  too  much  of  his  time, 
and  once,  twice  perhaps,  we  have  had  jokes  about  my  be- 
ing married  ;  but  this  was  the  end,  that  when  my  papa  tells 
me  to  marry,  then  I  will  marry.  I  must  go  somewhere. 
If  I  am  too  much  of  a  burden — and  sometimes  I  am  very 
sad,  and  think  that  I  am — then  he  must  go  and  bring  some 
one  to  me,  and  say,  'Marry  him.'  And  I  will  marry  him 
— and  hate  him" 

"Gracious  heavens,  child,  what  are  you  saying!  Of 
course,  if  ever  you  should  marry,  you  will  choose  for  your- 
self." 

"  It  is  not  my  affair,"-snid  Yolande,  coldly.  "  If  I  am  to 
go  away,  I  will  go  away;  but  I  shall  hate  the  one  that 
takes  me  away." 

"  Yolande,"  said  her  friend,  seriously,  "  you  are  making 
it  rather  hard  for  your  father.  Perhaps  I  have  no  right  to 
interfere;  but  you  have  no  mother  to  guide  you;  and  real- 
ly you  talk  such — such  nbsurdity — " 

"But  how  do  I  make  it  hard  for  my  papa?"  said 
Yolande,  quickly  looking  up  with  an  anxious  glance.  "Am 
I  a  constraint?  Do  you  think  there  is  something  he  would 
do?  Am  I  in  his  way — a  burden  to  him?" 

"No,  no,  no,"  said  the  other,  good-humoredly.  "Why 
should  you  think  any  such  tiling?  I  was  only  referring  to 


YO LANDS  07 

the  madness  of  your  own  fancy.  The  idea,  that  your  father 
is  to  choose  a  husband  for  you — whom  you  will  hate!  Now 
suppose  that  you  are  a  burden — I  believe  I  informed  you 
that  I  was  a  very  impertinent  woman,  and  now  I  am  an 
inU'i-meddler  as  well — suppose  that  your  father  would  like 
to  take  a  more  active  part  in  public  affairs,  and  that  he 
knows  you  are  opposed  to  the  very  notion  of  getting  mar- 
ried, lie  is  in  a  painful  dilemma.  He  won't  tell  you  that 
you  are  rather  interfering  with  his  Parliamentary  work. 
And  most  assuredly  he  won't  recommend  you  to  marry 
any  one,  if  you  are  going  to  marry  with  a  deadly  grudge 
against  your  husband." 

Yolande  thought  over  this  for  some  minutes. 

"I  suppose  it  is  true,"  she  said,  rather  sadly.  "He 
would  not  tell  me.  lie  has  said  I  kept  him  away  from  the 
House  of  Commons,  but  then  it  was  only  amusement  and 
joking.  And  I — I  also — have  many  a  time  been  fearing  it 
was  not  7'ight  he  should  waste  so  much  care  on  me,  when 
no  one  else  does  that  with  their  daughters.  Why  does  he 
go  to  the  House  ?  Partly  because  it  is  his  duty  to  work  for 
the  country — to  see  that  it  is  well  governed — partly  to  make 
fame,  whicli  is  a  noble  ambition.  And  then  I  interfere.  He 
thinks  I  am  not  quite  well,  when  I  am  quite  well.  He  thinks 
I  am  dull,  when  I  am  not  dull — when  I  would  rather  read  his 
speech  in  the  newspapers  than  go  anywhere.  But  always  the 
same — I  must  go  and  be  amused  ;  and  Parliament  and  every- 
thing is  left  behind.  It  was  not  so  bad  when  I  was  at  the 
Chateau  ;  then  I  was  learning;  but  even  then  he  was  always 
coming  to  seeme  and  to  take  me  away.  And  when  I  used  to 
say, '  Papa,  why  don't  you  take  me  to  England  ?  I  am  English, 
I  want  to  see  my  own  country,  not  other  countries,' — it 
was  always  '  You  will  see  enough  of  England  by  and  by. 
But  when  I  go  to  England,  look  !  it  is  the  same — always 
away  again,  except  a  week  or  two,  perhaps,  at  Oatlands 
Park,  or  a  day  or  two  in  London  ;  and  I  have  not  once 
been  to  the  House  of  Commons,  where  every  one  goes,  and 
(.•veil  my  papa  is  vexed  that  I  do  not  know  they  have  not 
a  ballroom  at  the  Reform  Club  !  " 

"  Well,  dear  Yolande,  you  have  led  a  queer  sort  of  life ; 
but,  after  all,  was  not  your  father  wise?  He  could  not  have 
a  household  with  a  schoolgirl  to  look  after  it.  But  now  I 
can  see  that  all  this  will  be  changed,  and  you  will  have  no 
more  fears  that  you  are  a  restraint.  Of  course  you  will 
marry,  and  you  will  be  very  happy,  and  your  papa  will 


68-  YOLANDE. 

have  your  home  to  go  to  at  the  Easter  holidays  :  and  you 
will  go  up  to  town  to  hear  him  speak  in  the  House,  and  he 
will  have  a  fair  chance  in  politics.  So  that  is  all  arranged, 
and  you  are  not  to  have  any  wild  or  fierce  theories.  There 
goes  dressing-bell — come  along  !  " 

Day  after  day  passed  without  change.  The  young 
Master  of  Lynn  had  been  re-assured  by  his  sister ;  and  very 
diligently,  and  with  a  Jacob-like  modesty  and  pntience,  lie 
strove  to  win  Yolande's  regard;  but  a  though  she  was  always 
most  friendly  towards  him,  and  pleased  to  chat  with  him, 
or  walk  the  hurricane  deck  with  him,  she  seemed  to  treat 
him  precisely  as  she  treated  any  of  the  others.  If  there  was 
one  whom  she  especially  favored,  it  was  Colonel  Graham, 
whose  curt,  sardonic  speeches  amused  her. 

At  last  they  arrived  at  Port  Said,  that  curious,  rectangu- 
lar streeted,  shanty-built  place,  that  looks  like  Cheyenne 
painted  pink  and  white ;  and  of  course  there  was  much 
wonder  and  interest  in  beholding  land  again,  and  green 
water,  and  the  swarming  boats  with  their  Greeks  and 
Maltese  and  negroes  and  Arabs,  all  in  their  various  cos- 
tumes. But  it  was  with  a  far  greater  interest  that  they  re- 
garded the  picture  around  them  when  the  vessel  had  started 
again,  and  was  slowly  and  silently  stealing  away  into  the 
wi<le  and  lonely  desert  land  by  means  of  this  water  highway. 
The  Suez  Canal  had  been  rather  a  commonplace  phrase  to 
Yolande,  mixed  up  with  monetary  affairs  mostly,  and  sug- 
gestive of  machinery.  But  all  this  was  strange  and  new, 
and  the  vessel  was  going  so  slowly  that  the  engines  were 
scarcely  heard  ;  she  seemed  to  glide  into  this  dreamworld 
of  silver  sky  and  far-reaching  wastes  of  yellow  sand.  It 
was  so  silent  and  so  wide  and  so  lonely.  For  the  most  part 
the  horizon-line  was  a  mirage,  and  they  watched  the  con- 
tinual undulation  of  the  silver  white  waves,  and  even  the 
strange  reflections  of  what  apeared  to  be  islands  ;  but  here 
there  was  not  even  a  palm  to  break  the  nonotony  of  the 
desert — only  the  little  tamarisk  bushes  dotting  the  sand. 
From  a  marsh  a  red-logged  flamingo  rose,  slowly  winging 
its  way  to  the  south.  Then  a  string  of  camels  came  along 
with  forward  stretching  heads  and  broad,  slow-pacing  feet, 
the  Bedouins  either  perched  on  the  backs  of  the  animals  or 
striding  through  the  sand  by  their  side,  their  faces  looking 
black  in  contr.-ist  to  their  white  wide-flowing  garments. 
And  so  they  glided  through  the  silent  gray,  silver,  world. 

The  night  saw   another  scene.     They    were  anchored  in 


YOLANDE.  09 

a  narrow  part  of  the  canal,  where  the  banks  were  high  and 
steep,  and  the  moonlight  was  surpassingly  vivid.  On  one 
of  these  banks — it  seemed  a  great  mountain  as  it  rose  to  the 
dark  blue  vault  where  the  stars  were — the  moonlight  threw 
the  shadow  of  the  rigging  of  the  ship  so  sharply  that  every 
spar  and  rope  was  traced  on  the  silver  clear  sand.  There 
was  an  almost  oppressive  silence  in  this  desert  solitude;  a 
dark  animal  that  came  along  through  the  tamarisk  bushes — 
some  said  it  was  a  jackal — disappeared  up  and  over  the 
sand  mountain  like  a  ghost.  And  in  the  midst  of  this  weird 
cold  moonlight  and  silence  these  people  began  to  get  up  a 
dance  after  dinner.  The  piano  was  brought  on  deck  from 
the  saloon.  The  women-folk  had  put  on  their  prettiest 
costumes.  There  had  been  perhaps  (so  it  was  said)  a  little 
begging  and  half-promising  going  on  beforehand.  The 
gmoking-room  was  deserted.  From  the  supports  of  the 
awnings  a  number  of  large  lanterns  had  been  slung,  so  that 
when  the  ladies  began  to  appear,  and  when  the  first  notes 
of  the  music  were  heard,  the  scene  was  a  very  animated 
and  pretty  one,  but  so  strange  with  the  moonlit  desert 
around. 

The  Master  of  Lynn  had  got  hold  of  Yolande ;  he  had 
been  watching  for  her  appearance. 

"  I  hope  you  will  give  me  a  dance,  Miss  Winterbourne," 
said  he. 

"  Oh  yes,  with  pleasure,"  said  she,  in  the  most  friendly 
way. 

"  There  are  no  programmes,  of  course,"  said  he.  "  And 
one  can't  make  engagements;  but  I  think  a  very  good  rule 
in  a  thing  like  this  is  that  one  should  dance  with  one's 
friends.  For  myself,  I  don't  care  to  dance  with  strangers. 
It  doesn't  interest  me.  I  think  when  people  form  a  party 
among  themselves  on  board  ship — well,  I  think  they  should 
keep  to  themselves." 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  very  selfish,  is  it  not  ?  "  Yolande  said. 
"  We  are  not  supposed  to  be  strangers  with  any  one  after 
being  on  board  ship  so  long  together." 

"Miss  Wiriterbourne,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  danc- 
ing this  waltz  with  you?"  said  a  tall,  solemn  man  with  an 
eyeglass  ;  and  the  next  moment  the  Master  of  Lynn  beheld 
Yolande  walking  toward  that  cleared  space  with  Major 
Mackinnon,  of  the  Seaforth  Highlanders  ;  and  as  to  what  he 
thought  of  the  Seaforth  Highlanders,  and  what  he  hoped 


70  YOLANDE. 

would  happen  to  them,  from  their  colonel  down  to  their 
pipe-major,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  anything  here. 

But  Yolande  did  give  him  the  next  dance,  which  molli- 
fied him  a  little — not  altogether,  however,  for  it  was  only 
a  square.  The  next  was  a  Highland  Schottische ;  and  by 
iil  luck  he  took  it  for  granted  that  Yolande,  having  been 
brought  up  in  France,  would  know  nothing  about  it ;  su 
he  went  away  and  sought  out  his  sister.  Their  performance 
was  the  feature  of  the  evening.  No  one  else  thought  of 
interfering.  And  it  was  very  cleverly  and  prettily  and 
artistically  done;  i  <omuch  that  a  round  of  applause 
greeted  them  at  the  c-nd,*even  from  the  young  Highland 
officers,  who  considered  that  young  Leslie  might  just  as 
well  have  sought  a  partner  elsewhere  instead  of  claiming 
his  own  sister.  Immediately  after,  the  Master  of  Lynn  re- 
turned to  Yolande. 

"  Ah,  that  is  very  pretty,"  she  said.  "  No  wonder  they 
approved  you  and  clapped  their  hands.  It  is  the  most 
picturesque  of  all  the  dances,  especially  when  there  are 
only  two,  and  you  have  the  whole  deck  for  display.  In  a 
ballroom,  perhaps  no." 

"You  must  learn  it,  Miss  Winterbourne,  before  you 
come  North,"  said  he.  (t  We  always  dance  it  in  the  North." 

u  Oh,  but  I  know  it  very  well,"  said  Yolande  quietly. 

"  You  ?  "  said  he,  in  an  injured  way.  "  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me?  Do  you  think  I  wanted  to  dance  with  my 
Bister,  and  leave  you  here?" 

"But  Mrs.  Graham  and  you  danced  it  so  prettily — oh, 
BO  very  well  indeed — " 

There  was  somebody  else  approaching  them  now — for  the 
lady  at  the  piano  had  that  instant  begun  another  waltz. 
This  was  Captain  Douglas  also  of  the  Seaforth  Highlanders. 

"  Miss  Winterbourne,  if  you  are  not  engaged  will  you 
give  me  this  waltz?  " 

Yolande  did  not  hesitate.  Why  should  she  ?  She  was 
not  engaged. 

"  Oh  yes,  thanks,"  said  she,  with  much  friendliness,  and 
she  rose  and  took  Captain  Douglas's  arm. 

But  Leslie  could  not  bear  this  perfidy,  as  he  judged  it. 
He  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  dance,  or  with  her. 
Without  a  word  to  any  one  he  went  away  to  the  smoking- 
room,  and  sat  down  there,  savage  and  alone.  He  lit  a 
cigar,  and  smoked  vehemently. 

"  Polly  talks  about  men  being  bamboozled  by  women," 


YOLANDE.  71 

lie  was  thinking  bitterly.  "  She  knows  nothing  about  it. 
It  is  women  who  know  nothing  about  women  ;  they  hide 
themselves  from  each  other.  But  she  was  right  on  ono 
point.  That  girl  is  the  most  infernal  flirt  that  overstepped 
the  earth." 

And  still,  far  away,  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  the 
music,  and  also  the  stranger  sound — like  a  whispering  of 
silken  wings — of  feet  on  the  deck.  He  was  angry  and  indig- 
nant. Yolande  could  not  be  blind  to  his  constant  devotion 
to  her,  and  yet  she  treated  him  exactly  as  if  he  were  a 
stranger — going  off  with  the  first-comer.  Simplicity  !  His 
sister  was  ri^ht — it  was  the  simplicity  of  a  first  class  flirt. 

And  still  the  waltz  went  on  ;  and  he  heard  the  winnow- 
ing sound  of  the  dancers'  feet ;  and  his  thoughts  were 
bitter  enough.  He  was  only  five-and-twenty  ;  at  that  age 
hopes  and  fears  and  disappointments  arc  emphatic  and 
near ;  probably  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  turn  from  the 
vanities  of  the  hour,  and  from  the  petty  throbbing  anxie- 
ties and  commonplaces  of  everyday  life,  to  think  of  the 
awful  solitudes  all  around  him  there — the  voiceless,  world- 
old  desert  lying  so  dim  and  strange  under  the  moonlight 
and  the  stars,  its  vast  and  mysterious  heart  quite  pulseless 
and  calm. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CLOUDS. 


NEXT  morning,  quite  unconscious  that  she  had  dealt  any 
deadly  injury  to  any  one,  Yolande  was  seated  all  by  herself 
on  the  hurricane-deck,  idly  and  carelessly  and  happily 
drinking  in  fresh  clear  air,  and  looking  away  over  the  wastes 
of  golden  sand  to  a  strip  of  intense  dark  blue  that  was  soon 
to  reveal  itself  as  the  waters  of  a  lake.  She  was  quite  alone 
The  second  officer  had  brought  her  one  of  the  ship's  glasses, 
and  had  then  (greatly  against  his  will)  gone  on  the  bridge 
again.  The  morning  was  fair  and  shining;  the  huge 
steamer  was  going  placidly  and  noiselessly  through  the  still 
water  ;  if  Yolande  was  thinking  of  anything,  it  was  proba- 


7i>  YOLANDE. 

ably  th.it  she  had  never  seen  her  father  so  pleased  and  con- 
tented as  on  this  long  voyage  ;  and  perhaps  she  was  won- 
dering whether,  after  all  it  might  not  be  quite  as  well  that 
he  should  give  up  Parliament  altogether,  so  that  they  two 
might  wander  away  through  the  world,  secure  in  each 
other's  company. 

Nor  was  she  aware  that  at  this  precise  moment  her 
future  was  being  accurately  arranged  for  her  in  one  of  the 
cabins  below. 

"  I  confess  I  don't  see  where  there  can  be  the  least  ob- 
jection." Mrs.  Graham  was  saying  to  her  husband  (who 
was  still  lying  in  his  berth,  turning  over  the  pages  of  a 
novel),  as  she  fixed  a  smart  mob-cap  on  her  short  and  pretty 
curls.  "  I  have  looked  at  it  every  way.  Papa  may  make  a 
fuss  about  Mr.  Winterbourne's  politics,  but  there  are  sub- 
stantial reasons  why  he  should  say  as  little  as  possible. 
Just  think  how  he  has  worked  at  the  improving  of  the  estate 
— all  his  life — and  with  scarcely  any  money;  and  just 
fancy  Archie  coming  in  to  complete  the  thing!  I  know 
what  I  would  do.  I  would  drain  and  plant  the  rushed 
slopes,  and  build  a  nice  lodge  there;  and  then  I  would  take 
the  sheep  off  Allt-nam-Ba.  and  make  it  a  small  forest ;  and 
it  would  let  for  twice  as  much  again.  Oh  Jim,  just  fancy 
if  Archie  were  to  be  able  to  buy  back  Corrievreak !  " 

Her  husband  flung  the  book  aside,  and  put  his  hands 
under  his  head.  His  imagination  was  at  work. 

"  If  I  were  Archie,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
vacancy,  "I  would  make  Corrievreak  the  sanctuary;  that's 
•svhut  I  would  do.  Then  I  would  put  a  strip  of  sheep  up 
the  Glenbuie  side  to  fence  off  Sir  John  ;  do  you  see  that, 
Polly?  And  then  I  would  take  the  sheep  off  Allt-nam-Ba, 
as  you  say,  only  I  would  add  on  All-nam-Ba  to  Lynn.  Do 
you  see  that?  What  made  your  grandfather  part  with 
Corrievreak  I  don't  know.  Fancy  having  the  sanctuary 
within  two  miles  of  a  steamboat  pier:  it's  a  standing  temp- 
tation to  all  the  poachers  in  the  country  !  Now  if  you  take  in 
Allt-nam-Ba,  and  make  Corrievreak  the  sanctuary,  and 
if  you'd  hold  your  hand  for  a  year  or  two  in  the  letting, 
you'd  soon  have  one  of  the  best  forests  in  Scotland.  But 
letting  is  the  mischief.  Those  fellows  from  the  south  shoot 
anything  on  four  legs  they  can  get  at.  Forty  years  ago  the 
finest  stags  in  Invernessshire  were  found  round  and  about 
Corrievreak ;  the  Fork  Augustus  lads  knew  that,  they  used 
to  say.  Oli,  I  quite  agree  with  you.  I  think  it  would  be 


YOLANDE.  ~\\ 

an  uncommon  good  match.  And  then  Arc-hie  would  have 
a  house  in  town,  I  suppose  ;  and  they  might  put  us  up  for 
:i  week  or  two  in  the  season.  Tit  for  t.it's  fair  play.  lie 
has  the  run  of  Inverstroy  Avhen  there  isn't  a  bit  of  rabbit- 
shooting  left  to  him  at  Lynn." 

"Well,  but  there's  just  this,  you  know,  Jim,"  his  wife 
said,  with  an  odd  kind  of  smile.  "We  know  very  little 
about  what  kind  of  girl  she  is,  and  Archie  knows  less  than 
we  do." 

"  Oh,  she's  well  enough,"  said  the  stout  soldier,  carelessly. 
That  was  a  subsidiary  point.  What  his  mind  clearly 
grasped  was  the  importance  of  having  Corrievreak  made 
the  sanctuary  of  the  deer  forest. 

"  She  is  well  enough,  no  doubt,"  his  wife  said  ;  and  as 
she  had  finished  her  toilette  she  now  stood  and  regarded, 
him,  with  a  demure  kind  of  hesitation  in  her  face,  as  if  she 
were  afraid  to  confess  her  thoughts.  "  She  is  well  enough. 
She  has  good  manners.  She  is  distingushed-looking,  for  a 
girl  of  her  age  ;  and  you  know  all  the  money  in  Slagpool 
wouldn't  induce  papa  to  receive  a  dowdy  daughter-in-law. 
And  she  doesn't  flirt — unless — well,  it's  just  possible  she 
knows  that  that  indifference  of  hers  is  attractive  to  young 
men  ;  it  puts  them  on  their  mettle,  and  touches  their  van- 
ity. But  after  all,  Jim,  we  know  very  little  about  the  girl. 
We  don't  know  what  sort  of  a  wife  she  would  make.  She 
has  come  through  nothing ;  less  than  most  girls ;  for  she 
might  as  well  have  been  in  a  convent  as  in  that  Chateau, 
And  of  course  she  can't  expect  life  always  to  be  as  pleasant 
for  her;  and — and — she  has  come  through  no  crisis  to  show 
what  kind  of  stuff  she  is  made  of ;  and  we  might  all  be  mis- 
taken— " 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  you're  driving  at,'"  her  husband  said, 
with  just  a  touch  of  contempt,  "  Don't  be  alarmed  ;  I  dare 
say  Archie  isn't  anxious  to  marry  a  tragedy  queen.  1  don't 
see  why  Miss  Winterbourne  should  be  put  to  any  fiery  trial, 
or  should  have  to  go  through  mortal  agonies,  any  more  than 
the  majority  of  young  women  in  exceptionally  easy  circum- 
stances. And  if  she  should,  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  show 
common-sense,  and  men  prefer  common-sense  to  hysterics 
— a  long  way.  I  think  she  has  common-sense  ;  and  I  don't 
see  why  she  and  Archie  shouldn't  marry,  and  have  a  pleas- 
ant enough  time  of  it  ;  and  I  suppose  they  will  quarrejl 
until  one  or  other  gets  tired  of  quarrelling,  and  refuses ;  and 
if  they  only  have  a  tidy  little  house  about  Rruton  Street  or 


74  YOLANDE. 

Conduit  Street  and  a  good  cook,  it  will  bo  very  convenient 
for  us.  Now  I  wish  to  goodness  you'd  clear  out,  and  let  me 
get  dressed." 

The  dismissal  was  summary,  but  pretty  Mrs.  Graham 
was  a  good-natured  woman,  and  with  much  equanimity  she 
left  the  cabin,  made  her  way  along  the  saloon,  and  up  the 
companion  way  to  the  outer  air.  About  the  first  person  she 
ran  against  was  her  brother,  and  black  thunder  was  on  his 
face. 

"Where  is  Miss  Winterbourne ? "  she  said,  inadver 
tently,  and  without  reflecting  that  the  question  was  odd. 

"On  the  hurricane-deck,"  said  he.  "I  dare  say  you 
will  find  half  the  officers  of  the  ship  round  her." 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  which  caused  his  sister, 
with  considerable  sharpness,  to  ask  him  what  he  meant; 
and  then  out  came  the  story  of  his  wrongs.  Now  Mrs. 
Graham  had  not  been  too  well  pleased  when  her  husband 
and  everybody  else  sang  the  praises  of  Yolande  to  her ;  but 
no  sooner  was  the  girl  attacked  in  this  way  than  she  in- 
stantly, and  with  a  good  deal  of  warmth,  flew  to  her  de- 
fence. What  right  had  he  to  suppose  that  Miss  Winter- 
bourne  ought  to  have  singled  him  out  as  different  from  the 
others?  Why  should  she  not  dance  with  whomsoever  she 
pleased  ?  If  the  ship's  officers  showed  her  some  little  ordi- 
nary courtesies,  why  should  she  not  be  civil  in  return? 
What  right  of  possession  had  he  in  her?  What  was  he  to 
her  in  any  way  whatever? 

"  You  said  yourself  she  was  a  flirt,"  her  brother  re- 
torted. 

"I?"  she  said.  "I?  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind  !  I 
said  that  the  preposterous  innocence  that  you  discovered  in 
her  was  more  like  the  innocence  of  a  confirmed  flirt.  But 
that  only  shows  me  that  you  know  nothing  at  all  about  her. 
To  imagine  that  she  should  have  kept  all  her  dances  for 
you " 

"I  imagined  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  answered,  with 
equal  vehemence.  "  But  I  imagined  that  as  we  were  trav- 
elling together  as  friends,  even  a  small  amount  of  friendli- 
ness might  have  been  shown.  But  it  is  no  matter." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  it  is  no  matter,"  she  interrupted. 
"  I  have  no  doubt  Miss  Winterbourne  will  find  plenty  to 
understand  her  character  a  little  better  than  you  seem  to 
do.  You  seem  to  think  that  you  should  have  everything— 
that  everything  should  be  made  smooth  and  pleasant  for 


YOLANDE.  75 

you.  I  suppose,  when  you  marry,  you  will  expect  your 
witV  to  go  through  life  with  her  ballroom  dress  on.  It 
isn't  her  womanly  nature  that  you  will  be  thinking  of,  but 
whether  she  dresses  well  enough  to  make  other  women 
envious/' 

All  this  was  somewhat  incoherent ;  but  there  was  a  con- 
fused recollection  in  her  brain  of  what  she  had  been  saying 
to  her  husband,  and  also  perhaps  a  vague  impression  that 
these  words  were  exculpating  herself  from  certain  possible 
charges. 

"  You  don't  consider  whether  a  woman  is  fit  to  stand 
the  test  of  suffering  and  trouble  :  do  you  think  she  is  always 
going  to  be  a  pretty  doll  to  sit  at  the  head  of  your  dinner 
table  ?  You  think  you  know  what  Yolande's  nature  is  ;  but 
you  know  nothing  about  it.  You  know  that  she  has  pretty 
eyes,  perhaps ;  and  you  get  savage  when  she  looks  at  any 
one  else." 

She  turned  quickly  away  ;  Yolande  had  at  that  moment 
appeared  at  the  top  of  the  steps.  And  when  she  came  down 
to  the  deck  Mrs.  Graham  caught  her  with  both  hands,  and 
kissed  her,  and  still  held  her  hands  and  regarded  her  most 
affectionately. 

"  Dear  Yolande,  how  well  you  are  looking ! "  she  ex- 
claimed (meaning  that  her  brother  should  hear,  but  he  had 
walked  away).  "Dissipation  does  not  harm  you  a  bit. 
But  indeed  a  dance  on  the  deck  of  a  ship  is  not  like  a  dance 
in  town " 

Yolande  glanced  around  ;  there  was  no  one  by. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Graham,"  said  she,  "  I  have  a  secret  to  ask 
you.  Do  you  think  your  brother  would  do  me  a  great 
favor  ?  Dare  I  ask  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course,"  said  the  other,  with  some  hesi- 
tation and  a  little  surprise.  "  Of  course  he  would  be  de- 
lighted." 

She  could  see  that  Yolande,  at  least,  knew  nothing  of 
the  fires  of  rage  or  jealousy  she  had  kindled. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is,  then.  I  wish  my  papa  to 
think  that  I  can  manage — oh,  everything  !  when  we  go  to 
the  house  in  the  Highlands.  I  wish  that  he  may  have  no 
trouble  or  delay;  that  everything  should  be  quite  ready 
and  quite  right.  Always  he  has  said, '  Oh,  you  are  a  child  ; 
why  do  you  want  a  house  ?  Why  should  you  have  vex&- 
tion  ?  *  But,  dear  Mrs.  Graham,  I  do  not  mind  the  trouble 
»t  all ;  jind  I  am  filled  with  joy  when  I  think  of  the  time  I 


76  VO  LANDS. 

am  to  go  to  the  shops  in  Inverness ;  and  papa  will  see  that 
I  can  remember  everything  that  is  wanted ;  and  he  will 
have  no  bother  at  all ;  and  he  will  see  that  I  can  look  after 
a  house,  and  then  he  will  not  be  so  afraid  to  take  one  in 
London  or  the  country,  and  to  have  a  proper  home  as  every 
one  else  has.  And  this  is  what  I  would  ask  of  your 
brother,  if  he  will  be  so  very  kind.  He  will  be  at  Inverness 
before  any  of  us,  I  suppose  ?'' 

"No  doubt;  but  why  should  you  look  so  far  ahead, 
Yolande,  and  trouble  yourself?  " 

"It  is  no  trouble;  it  is  a  delight.  You  were  speaking 
of  the  carriage  we -should  want,  and  the  horses,  to  drive  be- 
tween Allt-nam-Ba  and  the  steamboat  pier.  Now  all  the 
other  things  that  I  have  made  a  list  of " 

«  Already  ?  " 

"  When  you  were  so  good  as  to  tell  me  them,  I  put 
them  down  on  a  sheet  of  paper — it  is  safer ;  but  the  car- 
riage :  do  you  think  I  might  ask  your  brother  to  hire  that 
for  us  for  the  three  months  ?  Then  when  papa  goes  to  In- 
verness there  will  be  no  bother  or  waiting ;  everything  in 
readiness ;  the  carriage  and  horses  engaged  ;  the  dogs  sent 
on  before  ,  the  cook  at  the  lodge,  with  luncheon  ready,  or 
dinner,  if  it  is  late ;  all  the  bedroom  things  nicely  aired  ;  all 
right — everything  right.  Do  you  think  I  might  ask  Mr. 
Leslie  ?  Do  you  think  he  would  be  so  kind  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  he  would  be  delighted,  "  said  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham (with  some  little  misgiving  about  Archie's  existing 
mood).  "I  fancy  he  has  promised  to  get  your  papa  a 
couple  of  ponies  for  the  game  panniers  ;  and  he  might  as 
well  get  you  a  dog-cart  at  the  same  time.  I  should  say  a 
four-wheeled  dog-cart  and  one  stout  serviceable  horse 
would  be  best  for  you  ;  with  perhaps  a  spring-cart  and  an 
additional  pony — to  trot  in  with  the  game  to  the  steamer. 
But  Archie  will  tell  you.  It  sounds  so  strange  to  talk 
about  such  things — here.  Jim  and  I  had  a  chat  about  the 
Highlands  this  very  morning." 

"  I  will  speak  to  your  brother  after  breakfast,  then." 

But  after  breakfast,  as  it  turned  out,  the  Master  of  Lynn 
was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Tolande  wondered  that  he  did 
not  as  usual  come  up  to  the  hurricane-deck  to  play  "  Bull," 
or  have  a  promenade  with  her ;  but  thought  he  was  par- 
haps  writing  letters  in  the  saloon,  to  be  posted  that  night 
at  Suez.  She  did  not  like  to  ask :  she  only  waited.  She 
played  "  Bull"  with  her  father,  and  got  sadly  beaten.  She 


YOLANDE,  77 

had  a  smart  promenade  with  Colonel  Graham,  who  told 
her  some  jungle  stories  ;  but  she  was  thinking  of  the  High- 
lands all  the  time.  She  began  to  be  impatient  and  set  to 
work  to  devise  letters,  couched  in  such  business  phraseol- 
ogy as  she  knew,  requesting  a  firm  of  livery-stable  keepers 
to  state  their  terms  for  the  hire  of  a  dog-cart  and  horse  for 
three  months,  the  wages  of  the  groom  included. 

There  was  no  need  to  hurry.  There  had  been  some 
block  in  the  canal,  and  the  huge  bulk  of  the  ship  was  now 
lying  idly  in  the  midst  of  the  Greater  Bitter  Lake.  All 
around  them  was  the  wide  plain  of  dazzling  blue-green 
water,  and  beyond  that  the  ruddy  brown  strip  of  the  desert 
quivered  in  the  furnace-like  heat ;  while  overhead  shone 
the  pale  clear  sky,  cloudless  and  breathless.  Yolande,  as 
usual,  wore  neither  hat  nor  bonnet ;  but  she  was  less  reck- 
less in  venturing  from  under  shelter  of  the  awnings.  And 
some  of  the  old  Anglo-Indians  were  hoping  that  the 
punkahwallahs  would  be  set  to  work  at  dinner-time. 

The  Master  of  Lynn  had  not  shown  up  at  breakfast ; 
but  he  made  his  appearance  at  lunch,  and  he  greeted  Yo- 
lande with  a  cold  "good-morning"  and  a  still  colder  bow. 
Yolande,  in  truth,  did  not  notice  any  change  in  his  manner 
at  first,  but  by  and  by  she  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  he 
addressed  the  whole  of  his  conversation  to  Colonel  Gra- 
ham, and  that  he  had  not  a  single  word  for  her,  though  he 
was  sitting  right  opposite  to  her.  Well,  she  thought,  per- 
haps this  question  as  to  whether  they  were  to  get  through 
to  Suez  that  evening  was  really  very  important.  It  did 
not  much  matter  to  her.  She  was  more  interested  in  In- 
verness than  in  Suez;  and  among  the  most  prized  of  her 
possessions  was  a  long  list  of  things  necessary  for  a  shoot- 
ing lodge,  apart  from  the  supplies  which  she  was  to  send 
from  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores.  She  felt  she  was  no 
longer  a  schoolgirl,  nor  even  a  useless  and  idle  wanderer. 
Her  father  should  see  what  she  could  do.  Was  he  awaro 
that  she  knew  that  ordinary  blacking  was  useless  for  shoot- 
ing boots,  and  that  she  had  got  "  dubbing  "  down  in  her 
list? 

"  Archie,"  said  Mrs.  Graham  to  her  brother  the  first 
time  she  got  hold  of  him  after  lunch,  "  you  need  not  be 
rude  to  Miss  Winterbourne." 

"I  hope  I  have  not  been,"  said  he,  somewhat  stiffly. 

**  You  treated  her  as  if  she  were  an  absolute  stranger  at 


78  YOLANDE. 

lunch.     Not  that  I  suppose  she   cares.     But  for  your  own 
sake  you  might  show  better  manners." 

"I  think  you  mistake  the  situation,"  said  he,  with  ap- 
parent indifference.  "  '  Do  as  you're  done  by'  is  a  very 
good  motto.  It  is  for  her  to  say  whether  we  are  to  b« 
friends,  acquaintances,  or  strangers ;  and  if  she  chooses  to 
treat  you  on  the  least-favored-nation  scale,  I  suppose  you've 
got  to  accept  that.  It  is  for  her  to  choose.  It  is  a  free 
country." 

"I  think  you  are  behaving  abominably.  I  suppose  you 
are  jealous  of  those  young  officers ;  men  who  are  not  in 
the  army  always  are;  they  know  women  like  a  man  who 
can  fight." 

"Fight!  Smoke  cigarettes  and  play  sixpenny  Nap, 
you  mean.  That's  about  all'the  fighting  they've  ever  done." 

"Do  you  say  that  about  Jini?"  said  the  young  wife, 
with  a  flash  of  indignation  in  her  eyes.  "  Why — ,' 

"  I  wasn't  aware  that  Graham  was  a  candidate  for  Miss 
Winterbourne's  favors,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  now,"  she  said,  "  you  are  making  a  fool  of  your- 
self,  all  to  no  purpose.  If  you  are  jealous  of  them,  won't 
you  be  rid  of  the  whole  lot  of  them  to-night,  supposing  we 
get  to  Suez?  And  we  shall  be  all  by  ourselves  after  that ; 
and  I  am  sure  I  expected  we  should  make  such  a  pleasant 
and  friendly  party." 

"But  I  am  quite  willing'"  said  he.  "If  I  meet  Miss 
Winterbourne  on  terms  of  her  own  choosing,  surely  that  is 
only  leaving  her  the  liberty  she  is  entitled  to.  There  is  no 
quarrel,  Polly.  Don't  be  aghast.  If  Miss  Winterbourne 
wishes  to  be  friendly,  good  and  well ;  if  not,  good  and 
better.  No  bones  will  be  broken." 

"  I  tell  you  this  at  least,"  said  his  sister,  as  a  parting 
warning  or  entreaty,  "  that  she  is  perfectly  unconscious  of 
having  given  you  any  offence.  She  has  been  anxious  to 
speak  to  you  all  day,  to  ask  you  for  a  favor.  She  wants 
you  to  hire  a  dog-cart  and  a  spring-cart  for  them  when  you 
go  to  Inverness.  If  she  thought  there  was  anything  (the 
matter,  would  she  ask  a  favor  of  you  ?" 

"There  is  nothing  the  matter,"  he  rejoined,  with  perfect 
equanimity.  "And  I  am  quite  willing  to  hire  any  number 
of  dog-carts  for  her — when  she  asks  me." 

But  oddly  enough,  whether  it  was  that  Yolande  had  de- 
tected something  unusual  in  his  manner,  or  whether  that 
item  in  her  list  of  preparations  had  for  the  moment 


YOLANDE.  79 

her  memory,  or  whether  it  was  that  the  ship  had  again  start- 
ed, and  everybody  was  eagerly  looking  forward  to  reaching 
Suez  that  night,  nothing  further  was  then  said  of  the  request 
that  Yolande  had  intended  to  make.  Indeed,  she  had  but 
little  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him  that  afternoon,  for 
most  of  her  time  was  taken  up  in  finally  getting  ready  for 
quitting  the  big  steamer,  and  in  helping  Mrs.  Graham  to  do 
likewise.  When  they  did  reach  Suez  it  was  just  dinner- 
time, and  that  meal  was  rather  hurried  over;  for  there  wen; 
many  good-bys  to  be  said,  and  people  could  be  got  at  more 
easily  on  deck. 

The  clear,  hot  evening  was  sinking  into  the  sudden  dark- 
ness of  the  Egyptian  night  when  the  Grahams  and  Winter- 
bournes  got  into  the  railway  carriage  that  was  to  take  them 
along  to  the  hotel ;  and  a  whole  crowd  of  passengers  had 
come  ashore  to  bid  them  a  last  good-by,  amongst  them 
notably  the  young  Highland  officers. 

"Lucky  beggars  !  "  said  Colonel  Graham,  rather  ruefully. 
"Don't  you  wish  you  were  going  out,  Polly?  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  be  going  out  again  ?" 

"  Not  I.     Think  of  dear  Baby,  Jim  !  " 

"  By  Jove  !  "  said  he,  "  if  Colin  Mackenzie  were  here 
with  his  pipes  to  play  'The  Barren  Rocks  of  Aden,'  I  be- 
lieve I'd  go.  I  believe  nothing  could  keep  me." 

And  so  they  bade  good-by  to  those  boys;  and  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham and  Yolande  found  themselves  overladen  with  fruit 
and  flowers  when  the  train  started.  They  were  tired  after 
so  much  excitement,  and  very  soon  went  to  bed  after  reach- 
ing the  hotel. 

Next  morning  they  set  out  for  Cairo  ;  the  Master  quite 
courteous,  in  a  reserved  kind  of  a  way;  his  sister  inwardly 
chafing  ;  Yoland  perhaps  a  trifle  puzzled.  Colonel  Graham 
and  Mr.  Winterbourne,  on  the  other  hand,  knowing  nothing 
of  these  subtle  matters,  were  wholly  engrossed  by  the  sights 
without.  For  though  at  first  there  was  nothing  but  the 
vast  monotony  of  the  desert — a  blazing  stretch  of  sun- 
brown,  with  perhaps  now  and  again  a  string  of  camels  look- 
ing quite  black  on  the  far  horizon-line — that  in  time  gave 
way  to  the  wide  and  fertile  plains  of  the  Nile  Valley. 
Slowly  enough  the  train  made  its  way  through  these  teem- 
ing plains,  with  all  their  strange  features  of  Eastern  life — 
the  mud-built  villages  among  the  palms ;  herds  of  buffaloes 
coming  down  to  wallow  in  UK  river;  oxen  trampling  out 
the  com  in  the  open ;  camels  slowly  pacing  along  in  Indian 


80  YOLANDE. 

file,  or  here  and  there  tethered  to  a  tree  ;  strange  birds  flying 
over  the  interminable  breadths  of  golden  grain.  And  of 
course,  when  they  reached  Cairo,  that  wonderful  city  was 
still  more  bewildering  to  European  eyes — the  picturesque 
forms  and  brilliant  costumes  ;  the  gayly  caparisoned  donkeys, 
ridden  by  veiled  women,  whose  black  eyes  gleamed  as  they 
passed  ;  the  bare-legged  runner  with  his  long  wand  clearing 
the  way  for  his  master  on  horseback ;  the  swarthy  Arabs 
leading  tneir  slow-moving  camels ;  and  side  by  side  with 
the  mosques  and  minarets  and  Moorish  houses,  the  French- 
looking  cafe's  and  shops,  to  say  nothing  of  the  French-look- 
ing public  gardens,  with  the  European  servant-maids  and 
children  listening  to  the  tinkling  music  from  the  latest 
Parisian  comic  opera. 

Then  they  got  them  to  a  large  hotel,  fronting  these  pub- 
lic gardens,  the  spacious  hall  and  corridors  of  which  were 
gratefully  cool,  while  outside  there  was  such  a  mass  of  ver- 
dure— flowering  shrubs  and  palms,  wide-leaved  bananas,  and 
here  and  there  a  giant  eucalyptus — as  was  exceedingly 
pleasant  to  eyes  long  accustomed  to  only  the  blue  of  the  sea 
and  the  yellow-white  of  the  deck.  Moreover,  they  were  in 
ample  time  for  the  table  d'hote;  and  every  one,  after  the 
dust  and  heat,  was  glad  to  have  a  thorough  change  of  rai- 
ment. 

When  the  guests  assembled  in  the  long  and  lofty  dining- 
saloon  (  there  were  not  many,  for  most  of  the  spring  tourists 
had  already  left,  while  many  of  the  European  residents  iu 
Cairo  had  gone  away,  anticipating  political  troubles  ),  it 
was  clear  that  Mrs.  Graham  and  her  younger  companion 
had  taken  the  opportunity  of  donning  a  shore-toilette.  Mrs. 
Graham's  costume  was  certainly  striking :  it  was  a  deep 
crimson,  of  some  richly  brocaded  stuff;  and  she  had  some 
red  flowers  in  her  black  hair.  Yolande's  was  simpler:  the 
gown  a  muslin  of  white  or  nearly  white ;  and  the  only  color 
she  wore  was  a  bit  of  light  salmon-colored  silk  that  came 
round  her  neck,  find  was  fastened  in  a  bow  in  front.  She 
.had  nothing  in  her  hair,  but  the  light  falling  on  it  from 
above  was  sufficient,  and  even  glorious,  adornment.  For 
jewelry  she  had  two  small  ear-rings,  each  composed  of  mi- 
nute points  of  pale  turquoise ;  perhaps  these  only  served  to 
show  more  clearly  the  exquisite  purity  of  her  complexion, 
where  the  soft  oval  of  the  cheek  met  the  ear. 

"By  heavens,"  the-  Master  of  Lynn  said  to  himself,  the 


81 

moment  he  had  seen  her  come  in  at  the  wide  door,  "that 
girl  is  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  have1  ever  seen  !  " 

He  was  startled  into  renewed  admiration  of  her.  He 
could  not  keep  his  eyes  away  from  her  ;  he  found  himself 
listening  with  a  quick  sympathy  and  approval  when  she 
spoke;  and  as  her  face  was  all  lit  up  with  excitement  and 
gladness  because  of  the  strange  things  she  had  seen,  he  fol- 
lowed her  varying  expressions,  and  found  himself  being  help- 
lessly  drawr  under  a  witchery  which  he  could  not,  and  did 
not  strive  much  to  withstand.  She  spoke  mostly — and  she 
was  pleasantly  excited  and  talkative  this  evening — to  her 
father  and  to  Mrs.  Graham  ;  but  sometimes,  perhaps  inad- 
vertently, she  glanced  his  way  as  she  spoke,  and  then  he 
eagerly  agreed  with  what  she  was  saying,  before  he  knew 
what  it  was.  She,  at  least,  had  no  covert  quarrel  with  him 
or  with  any  one  else.  Delight  shone  in  her  eyes.  When 
she  laughed  it  was  like  music.  Even  her  father  thought 
that  she  was  looking  unusually  bright  and  happy;  and  so 
that  made  him  very  contented  too  ;  but  his  satisfaction  took 
the  form  of  humorous  grumbling  and  he  declared  that  he 
didn't  know  what  she  was  made  of — that  she  should  be 
making  merry  after  the  long  day's  heat  and  dust,  that  had 
nearly  killed  every  one  else. 

After  dinner  they  all  flocked  into  the  reading-room, 
anxious  to  have  a  look  at  the  English  papers — all  except 
the  Master  of  Lynn,  who  left  the  hotel,  and  was  absent  for 
a  little  time.  When  he  returned  he  went  into  the  read- 
ing-room, and  (with  a  certain  timidity)  went  up  to  Yolande. 

"  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  not  very  loudly, 
"  wouldn't  it  be  pleasanter  for  you  to  sit  outside  and  see 
the  people  passing  ?  It  is  very  interesting  ;  and  they  are 
playing  music  in  the  gardens.  It  is  much  cooler  out  of 
doors." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Yolande,  without  the  least  hesitation  ; 
and  instantly  she  rose  and  walked  out,  just  as  she  was,  on 
to  the  terrace,  he  modestly  attending  her.  He  brought  her 
a  chair  ;  and  she  sat  down  by  the  railings  to  watch  the 
picturesque  crowd.  She  spoke  to  him  just  in  her  usual 
way. 

*'  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he  at  length,  "  I  have  got 
you  a  little  case  of  attar  of  roses  ;  will  you  take  it  ?  When 
you  get  home,  if  you  put  it  in  your  wardrobe,  it  will  last  a 
long  time  ;  and  it  is  sure  to  remind  you  of  Cairo." 

"When  I  get  home  ?  "  she  repeated^  rather  sadly.     "I 


82  YOLANDE. 

have  no  home.  I  do  not  understand  it.  I  do  not  under 
stand  why  my  papa  should  not  have  a  home,  as  other  people 
have." 

"  Well,  then,  will  you  take  it  to  Allt-nam-Ba?  "  said  he. 
"That  will  be  your  home  for  awhile." 

At  the  mere  mention  of  the  place  her  face  brightened 
up. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  said,  in  the  most  friendly  way,  "  that 
will  indeed  be  a  home  for  us  for  awhile.  Oh,  thank  you  ; 
it  is  very  kind  of  you.  I  shall  prize  it  very  much." 

"And  Polly  was  saying  you  wanted  me  to  take  some 
commissions  for  you  to  Inverness,"  said  he,  abasing  him- 
self to  the  uttermost.  "  I  should  be  awfully  glad  ;  I  should 
be  delighted — " 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?  "  she  said  ;  and  she  rewarded  him  with 
an  upward  glance  of  gratitude  that  drove  Cairo,  and  Inver- 
ness, and  dog-carts,  and  everything  else  clean  out  of  his 
head.  "  And  you  are  not  anxious  to  read  the  news- 
papers ?  " 

"No— not  at  all." 

"  Then  will  you  sit  down  and  tell  me  a  little  more  about 
Allt-nam-Ba?  Ah,  you  do  not  know  how  I  look  forward 
to  it.  If  it  is  only  for  three  months,  still  it  is  a  home,  as 
you  say,  all  to  ourselves  ;  and  my  papa  and  I  have  never 
been  together  like  that  before.  I  am  so  glad  to  think  of  it 
and  1  am  frightened  too,  in  case  I  do  anything  wrong.  But 
your  sister  has  been  very  kind  to  me.  And  there  is  another 
thing,  if  I  make  mistakes  at  the  beginning — well,  I  believe 
my  papa  does  not  know  how  to  be  angry  with  me." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  not — I  should  think  not  indeed  !  " 
Raid  he,  as  if  it  were  quite  an  impossible  thing  for  any- 
body to  be  angry  with  Yolande. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN    THE     NIGHT. 

HE  had  at  last  discovered  an  easy  way  of  gaining  her 
favor.  She  was  so  anxious  to  prove  to  her  father  that  she 
was  a  cnpahlo  house-mistress  that  she  was  profoundly  grate- 


YOLANDE.  83 

ful  for  any  hint  that  might  help  ;  and  she  spared  neither 
time  nor  trouble  in  acquiring  the  most  minute  information, 
Then  all  this  had  to  be  done  in  a  more  or  less  secret  fashion. 
She  wished  the  arrangements  at  the  shooting  lodge  to  be 
something  of  a  surprise.  Her  father,  on  getting  up  to 
Inverness-shire  was  to  h'nd  everything  in  perfect  order  ; 
then  he  would  see  whether  or  not  she  was  fit  to  manage  a 
house.  She  had  even  decided  (after  serious  consultation 
with  the  Master  of  Lynn)  that  when  the  gillies  went  up  tin; 
hill  with  the  shooting  party,  she  would  give  them  their 
lunch  rather  than  the  meaner  alternative  of  a  shilling  apiece  ; 
and  when  the  Master  suggested  that  oat-cake  and  cheese 
were  quite  sufficient  for  that,  she  said  no — that  as  her 
father,  she  knew,  would  not  have  either  whiskey  or  beer 
about  the  place,  she  would  make  it  up  to  the  men  in  giving 
them  a  good  meal. 

This  decision  was  arrived  at,  of  all  places  in  the  world, 
in  the  gimcrack  wooden  building  that  Ismail  had  put  up  at 
the  foot  of  the  Great  Pyramid  for  the  reception  of  his 
guests.  The  Grahams  and  Winterbournes  had,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  driven  out  to  see  the  Pyramids  and  the  Sphinx  ; 
but  when  there  was  a  talk  of  their  climbing  to  the  top  of 
the  Great  Pyramid,  Yolande  flatly  refused  to  be  hauled 
about  by  the  Arabs  ;  so  that  Mrs.  Graham  (who  had  her 
little  ambitions)  and  her  husband  and  Mr.  Winterbourne 
started  by  themselves,  leaving  the  Master  of  Lynn,  who 
eagerly  accepted  the  duty,  to  keep  Yolande  company.  And 
so  these  two  were  now  sitting  well  content  in  this  big,  bare, 
cool  apartment,  the  chief  ornament  of  which  was  a  series 
of  pictures  on  the  wall — landscapes,  in  fact,  so  large  and 
wild  and  vehement  in  color  that  one  momentarily  expected 
to  hear  a  sharp  whistle,  followed  by  carpenters  rushing  in 
to  run  them  off  the  stage. 

"I  suppose,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he  (it  was  an  odd 
kind  of  conversation  to  take  place  at  the  foot  of  the  Great 
Pyramid),  "  your  father  wonld  like  to  kill  a  few  red  deer 
while  he  is  at  Allt-nam-Ba  ?  " 

"Oh  yes,  I  know  he  is  looking  forward  to  that.*' 

"Do  you  think."  said  he,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "that  it 
would  be  very  wicked  arid  monstrous  if  I  were  to  sacrifice 
my  father's  interests  to  your  father's  interests?  I  should 
think  not  myself.  There  are  two  fathers  in  the  case ;  what 
one  loses  the  other  gains." 

"I  do  not  understand  you/'  Yolande  said. 


84  YOLANDE, 

li  Well,  this  is  the  point.  What  deer  may  bo  found  in 
the  Allt-nam-Ba  gullies  will  most  likely  go  in  from  our  forest. 
Sometimes  they  cross  from  Sir  John's  ;  but  I  fancy  our 
forest  contributes  most  of  them  ;  they  like  to  nibble  a  little 
at  the  bushes  for  a  change,  and  indeed  in  very  wild 
weather  they  are  sometimes  driven  down  from  the  forest 
to  get  shelter  among  the  trees.  Oh,  don't  you  know  ?  "  he 
broke  in,  noticing  some  expression  of  her  eyes.  "  There 
are  no  trees  in  the  deer  forest — none  at  all — except  per- 
haps a  few  stunted  birches  down  in  the  corries.  Well,  you 
see,  as  the  deer  go  in  from  our  forest  into  your  gullies,  it  is 
our  interest  that  they  should  be  driven  out  again,  and  it  is 
your  interest  that  they  should  stay.  And  I  don't  think 
they  will  stay  if  there  is  not  a  glass  of  whiskey  about  the 
place.  That  was  the  hint  I  meant  to  give  you  Miss  Winter- 
bourne." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  yet,"  said  Yoland.    "  Whiskey  ?  " 

"  All  your  father's  chances  at  the  deer  will  depend  on 
the  goodwill  of  the  shepherds.  The  fact  is,  we  put  some 
sheep  on  Allt-nam-Ba,  mostly  as  a  fence  to  the  forest ;  there 
is  no  pasturage  to  speak  of ;  but  of  course  the  coming  and  go- 
ing of  the  shepherds  and  the  dogs  drive  the  deer  back. 
Now  supposing — just  listen  to  me  betraying  my  father's  in- 
terests and  my  own  ? — supposing  there  is  an  occasional  glass 
of  whiskey  about,  and  that  the  shepherds  are  on  very  friend- 
ly terms  with  you ;  then  not  only  are  they  the  first  to  know 
when  a  good  stag  has  come  about,  but  they  might  keep  them- 
selves and  their  dogs  down  in  the  bothy  until  your  father 
Lad  gone  out  with  his  rifle.  Now  do  you  see  ?" 

"  Oh  yes !  oh  yes  !  "  said  Yolande,  eagerly.  "  It  is  very 
kind  of  you.  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  My  father  would  not 
have  whiskey  in  the  house — oh,  never,  never — not  for  all  the 
deer  in  the  country.  Yet  it  is  sad — it  is  provoking !  I 
should  be  so  proud  if  he  were  to  get  some  beautiful  fine 
horns  to  be  hung  up  in  the  hall  when  we  take  a  house  some 
day.  It  is  very,  very,  very  provoking." 

"  There  is  another  way,  "  said  he,  quietly,  "  as  the  cook- 
ery book  says.  You  need  not  have  whiskey  in  the  house. 
You  might  order  a  gallon  or  two  in  Inverness  and  give  it  in 
sharge  to  Duncan,  the  keeper.  He  would  have  it  in  his 
bothv,  and  would  know  what  to  do  with  it." 

Out  came  her  note  book  in  a  second.  Two  gallons  of 
whiskey  addressed  to  Mr.  Duncan  Macdonald,  gamekeeper, 
Attt-nam-Ba,  with  note  explaining.  At  the  same 


YOLANDE  85 

the  dragoman  entered  the  room  to  prepare  lunch,  and  a 
glance  out  of  the  window  showed  them  the  other  members 
of  the  party  at  the  foot  of  that  great  blazing  mass  of  ruddy 
yellow  that  rose  away  into  the  pale  blue  Egyptian  sky. 

"Mind  you  don't  say  I  have  had  anything  to  do  with  it," 
said  he  (  and  he  was  quite  pleased  that  this  little  secret  ex- 
isted between  them).  "My  father  would  think  I  was  mad 
in  giving  you  these  hints.  But  yet  I  don't  think  it  is  good 
policy  to  be  so  niggardly.  If  your  father  kills  three  or  four 
stags  this  year,  the  forest  will  be  none  the  worse,  and  Allt- 
nam-Ba  will  let  all  the  more  easily  another  season.  And  I 
hope  it  is  not  the  last  time  we  shall  have  you  as  neighbors." 

She  did  not  answer  the  implied  question  ;  for  now  the 
other  members  of  the  party  entered  the  room,  breathless 
and  hot  and  fatigued,  but  glad  to  be  able  to  shut  back  at 
last  the  clamoring  horde  of  Arabs  who  were  still  heard 
protesting  and  vociferating  without. 

That  same  evening  they  left  Cairo  by  the  night  train 
for  Asyoot,  where  the  dahabeeyah  of  the  Governor  of 
Merhadj  was  awaiting  them ;  and  for  their  greater  con- 
venience they  took  their  dinner  with  them.  That  scram- 
bled meal  in  the  railway  carriage  was  something  of  an 
amusement,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  the  young  Master  of 
Lynn  would  insist  on  Yolande's  having  a  little  wine.  She 
refused  at  first,  merely  as  her  ordinary  habit  was;  but  when 
he  learned  that  she  had  never  tasted  wine  at  all,  of  any 
kind  whatever,  he  begged  of  her  still  more  urgently  to 
have  the  smallest  possible  quantity. 

"  It  will  make  you  sleep,  Miss  Winterbourne,  said  he, 
"  and  you  know  how  distressing  a  wakeful  night  journey 
is." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  said,  with  a  smile,  "  not  all.  There  is 
to  be  moonlight,  and  why  should  not  one  lie  awake  ?  My 
papa  wished  me  not  to  drink  wine,  and  so  1  have  not,  and 
1  have  never  thought  about  it.  The  ladies  at  the  Chateau 
hcarcely  took  any ;  they  said  it  was  not  any  better  than 
water." 

"  But  fancy  you  never  having  tasted  it  at  all !  "  he  said, 
and  then  he  turned  to  her  father.  u  Mr.  Winterbourme, 
will  you  give  Miss  Yolande  permission  to  take  a  very  little 
H  ine — to  taste  it  ?  " 

The  reply  of  her  father  was  singular: 

"  I  would  sooner  see  her  drink  Prussia  acid — then  the 
end  would  be  at  once,"  said  he. 


YOLANDE. 

Now  this  answer  was  so  abrupt,  and  apparently  so  un- 
harsh,  that  the  Master  of  Lynn,  not  knowing 
what  blunder  he  had  made,  immediately  strove  to  change 
the  subject,  and  the  most  agreeable  thing  he  could  think  of 
to  mention  to  Yolande's  father  was  the  slaying  of  stags. 

"  While  you  were  going  up  the  Great  Pyramid  this 
morning,  Mr.  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  "  we  were  talking 
about  what  you  were  likely  to  do  at  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  I  was 
telling  your  daughter  I  hoped  you  would  get  a  stag  or  two." 

"Yes? — oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Winterbourne,  apparently 
recalling  himself  from  some  reverie  by  an  effort  of  will. 
"  A  stag  ?  I  hope  so.  Oh,  yes,  I  hope  so.  We  will  keep 
a  sharp  lookout." 

"Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  the  younger  man,  with  a 
significant  glance  at  her  which  seemed  to  remind  her  that 
they  had  a  secret  in  common,  "  was  surprised  to  hear  that 
there  were  no  trees  in  a  deer  forest.  But  her  ignorance 
was  very  excusable.  How  could  she  know?  It  wasn't 
half  as  bad  as  the  talk  of  those  fellows  in  Parliament  and 
the  newspapers  who  howl  because  the  deer  forests  are  not 
given  over  to  sheep,  or  to  cattle,  or  turned  into  small 
crofts.  Goodness  gracious  !  I  wonder  if  any  one  of  them 
ever  saw  a  deer  forest?  Miss  Winterbourne,  that  will  be 
something  for  you  to  see — the  solitude  and  desolation  of 
the  forest — mile  after  mile  of  the  same  moorland  and  hill 
without  a  sound,  or  the  sight  of  a  living  thing — " 

"  But  is  not  that  their  complaint — that  so  much  land  is 
taken  away,  and  not  for  people  to  live  on?"  said  Yolande, 
who  had  stumbled  on  this  subject  somewhere  in  following 
her  father's  Parliamentary  career. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  ironically.  "I  wonder  what  they'd 
find  there  to  live  on.  They'd  find  granite  boulders,  and 
withered  moss,  and  a  hard  grass  that  sheep  won't  touch, 
and  that  cattle  won't  touch,  and  that  even  mountain  hares 
would  starve  on.  The  deer  is  the  only  living  animal  that 
can  make  anything  of  it,  and  even  he  is  fond  of  getting 
into  the  gullii-s  to  have  a  nibble  at  the  birch-trees.  I  wish 
tliosi-  Radical  fellows  knew  something  of  what  they  were 
talking  about  before  making  all  that  fuss  about  the  Game 
Laws.  The  Game  Laws  won't  hurt  you  if  you  choose  to 
keej)  from  thieving." 

"But  you  are  a  Liberal,  arc  you  not?"  said  Yolande 
with  wide-open  t-y< -s.  Of  course  she  concluded  that  any 

claiming  the  friendship  of  her  father  and  herself  must 


YOLANDE.  87 

needs  be  a  Liberal.  Travelling  in  the  same  party  too  : 
why — 

Well,  it  was  fortunate  for  the  Master  that  he  found  him- 
self absolved  from  replying ;  for  Mr.  Winterbourne  broke 
in,  with  a  sardonic  kind  of  smile  on  his  face. 

"  That  is  a  very  good  remark  of  yours,  Mr.  Leslie,"  said 
he ;  "a  very  good  remark  indeed.  I  have  something  of 
the  same  belief  myself,  though  I  shock  some  of  my  friends 
by  saying  so.  I  am  for  having  pretty  stringent  laws  all 
round,  and  the  best  defence  for  them  is  this — that  you  need 
not  break  them  unless  you  choose.  It  may  be  morally 
wrong  to  hang  a  man  for  stealing  a  sheep ;  but  all  you 
have  got  to  do  is  not  to  steal  the  sheep.  Well,  if  I  pay 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  for  a  shooting,  and  you 
come  on  my  land  and  steal  my  birds,  I  don't  care  what  may 
happen  to  you.  The  laws  may  be  a  little  severe  ;  but  your 
best  plan  would  have  been  to  earn  your  living  in  a  decent 
way,  instead  of  becoming  an  idle,  sneaking,  lying,  and 
thieving  poacher — " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  younger  man,  with 
great  warmth. 

"  That  is  my  belief,  at  all  events,"  said  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne,  with  the  same  curious  sort  of  smile ;  "  and  it  an- 
swers two  ends  :  it  enables  me  to  approve  my  gamekeeper 
for  the  time  being,  when  otherwise  I  might  think  he  was 
just  a  little  too  zealous ;  and  also  it  serves  to  make  some 
friends  of  mine  in  the  House  very  wild ;  and  you  know 
there  is  nothing  so  deplorable  as  lethargy." 

"But  you  are  a  Liberal,  Mr.  Leslie,  are  you  not?"  re- 
peated Yolande. 

And  here  again  he  was  saved — by  the  ready  wit  of  his 
sister. 

"My  dearest  Yolande,  what  are  you  t alking  about  ?"  she 
said.  "  What  these  two  have  been  saying  would  make  a 
Liberal  or  a  Radical  jump  out  of  his  five  senses — or  is  it 
seven  ?  It  it  seven,  Jim  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  her  husband  said,  lazily.  "  Five  are 
quite  enough  for  a  Radical." 

"  I  know  I  used  to  have  a  great  sympathy  with 
poachers,"  continued  pretty  Mrs.  Graham.  "It  always 
seemed  to  me  romantic — I  mean  when  you  read  about  the 
poacher  in  poems — his  love  of  sport,  you  know — " 

"His  love  of  sport,"  her  husband  growled,  contemptu- 
ously. "A  miserable  sneaking  fellow  loafing  about  the 


88  YOLANDE. 

public-house  all  day,  and  then  stealing  out  at  night  with 
his  ferrets  and  his  nets  to  snare  rabbits  for  the  market.  A 
love  of  sport !  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  can  remember,'  said  she,  stoutly,  u  when  I 
was  a  girl,  there  were  other  stories  than  that.  That  is  the 
English  poacher.  I  can  remember  when  it  was  quite  well 
known  that  the  Badenoch  young  fellows  were  coming  into 
the  forest  for  a  deer,  and  it  was  winked  at  by  everybody 
when  they  did  not  come  more  than  twice  or  thrice  in  the 
year.  And  that  was  not  for  the  market.  Anybody  could 
have  a  bit  of  venison  who  wanted  ;  and  I  have  heard  that 
there  was  a  fine  odor  of  cooking  in  the  shepherds'  bothies 
just  about  that  time." 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Game  Laws,"  her 
husband  said  curtly.  "  I  doubt  whether  deer  are  protected 
by  the  Game  Laws  at  all.  I  think  it  is  only  a  question  of 
trepass.  But  I  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Winterbourne ;  if 
laws  are  too  severe,  your  best  plan  is  not  to  break  them." 

"  Well,  I  was  cured  of  my  sympathy  on  one  occasion," 
said  Mrs.  Graham,  cheerfully  (having  warded  off  danger 
from  her  brother).  "  Do  you  remember,  Jim?  You  and  I 
were  driving  down  Glenstroy,  and  we  came  on  some  gypsies. 
They  had  a  tent  by  the  roadside ;  and  you  know,  dear 
Yolande,  I  wasn't  an  old  married  woman  "in  those  days, 
and  grown  suspicious ;  and  I  thought  it  would  be  nice  to 
stop  and  speak  to  the  poor  people,  and  give  them  some 
money  to  get  proper  food  when  they  reached  a  village. 
Do  you  know  what  Jim  said  ? — '  Money  for  food  ?  Most 
likely  they  are  plucking  a  brace  of  my  uncle's  black  game.' 
Well,  they  were  not.  We  got  down  from  the  trap,  and 
went  into  the  little  tent;  and  they  weren't  plucking  a  brace 
of  black  game,  but  they  were  cooking  two  hen  pheasants  on 
a  spit  as  comfortable  as  might  be.  I  suppose  a  gypsy 
wouldn't  do  much  good  as  a  deerstalker,  though?" 

And  while  they  thus  sat  and  chatted  about  the  far 
northern  wilds  (Yolande  was  deeply  interested,  and  the 
Master  of  Lynn  perceived  that ;  and  he  had  himself  an 
abundance  of  experience  about  deer)  the  sunset  went,  and 
presently,  and  almost  suddenly,  they  found  themselves  in 
the  intense  blackness  of  the  tropical  night.  When  from 
time  to  time  they  looked  out  of  the  window  they  could  see 
nothing  at  all  of  the  world  around,  though  Jupiter  and 
Venus  were  shining  clear  and  high  in  the  western  heavens,  and 
Orion's  jewels  were  paling  as  Wiey  sank;  and  away  in  the 


YOLANDE.  gfl 

riouth,  near  the  horizon,  the  solitary  Sirius  gleaned.  ISut 
us  the  night  went  on  (and  they  were  still  talking  of  Scot- 
land) a  pale  light — a  sort  of  faint  yellow  smoke — appeared 
in  the  southeast,  and  then  a  sharp,  keen  glint  of  gold 
revealed  the  edge  of  the  moon.  The  light  grew  and  spread 
up  into  the  sky,  and  now  the  world  around  them  was  no 
longer  an  indistinguishable  mass  of  black;  its  various 
features  became  distinct  as  the  soft  radiance  became  fuller 
and  fuller  ;  and  by  and  by  they  could  make  out  the  walls 
of  the  sleeping  villages,  with  their  strange  shadows,  and 
the  tall  palms  that  threw  reflections  down  on  the  smooth 
and  ghostly  water.  Can  anything  be  more  solemn  than 
moonlight  on  a  grove  of  palms — the  weird  darkness  of 
them,  the  silence,  the  consciousness  that  all  around  lies  the 
white,  still  desert  ?  Yolande's  fancies  were  no  longer  far 
away ;  this  silent,  moonlit  world  out  there  was  a  strange 
thing. 

Then,  one  by  one,  the  occupants  of  the  railway  carriage 
dropped  off  to  sleep  ;  and  Yolande  slept  too,  turning  her 
face   into   the  window  corner  somewhat,  and   letting  her 
hands  sink  placidly  into  her  lap.      He  did  not  sleep  ;  how 
could  he  ?     He  had  some  vague  idea  that  he  ought  to  be 
guardian  over  her ;  and  then — as  he  timidly  regarded  the 
perfect  lines  of  her  forehead  and  chin  and  throat,  and  the 
delicacy  of  the  small  ear,  and  the  sweep  of  the  soft  lashes — - 
he  wondered  that  this  beautiful  creature  should  have  been 
so  long  in  the  world  and  he  wasting  the  years  in  ignorance  ; 
and  then  (for  with  youth   there   is    little  diffidence;  it    is 
always,  "I  have  chosen  ;  you  are  mine;  you  can  not  be  any 
other  than  mine")  he  thought  of  her  as  the  mistress  of  Lynn 
Towers.     In  black  velvet  would   she  not  look  handsome, 
seated  at  the  head  of  the  dinner  table  ;  or  in   a  tall-backed 
rhuir  by  the  fireplace,  with  the  red   glow  from   the  birch 
logs  and  the  peat  making  glimmerings  on  her  hair?      He 
thought  of  her  driving  down   the  Glen ;  on  the  steamboat 
quay  ;  on  board  the  steamboat ;  in  the  streets  of  Inverness  ; 
r.nd  he  knew  that  nowhere  could  she  have  any  rival. 

And  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  what  air  was  made  by 
the  motion  of  the  train  must  be  blowing  in  upon  her  face, 
and  that  the  sand-blinds  of  the  windows  were  not  sufficient 
protection,  and  he  thought  he  could  rig  up  something  that 
would  more  effectually  shield  her.  So,  in  the  silence  and 
semi-darkness,  he  stealthily  got  hold  of  a  light  shawl  of  his 
•ister's,  and  set  to  work  to  fasten  one  end  to  the  top  of  the 


90  YOLANDE. 

carriage  door  and  the  other  to  the  netting  for  the  hand- 
bags, in  order  to  form  some  kind  of  screen.  This  ma- 
noeuvre took  some  time,  for  he  was  anxious  not  to  waken  any 
one,  and  as  he  was  standing  up,  he  had  to  balance  himself 
carefully,  for  the  railway  carriage  jolted  considerably.  But 
at  last  he  got  it  fixed,  and  he  was  just  moving  the  lower 
corner  of  the  screen,  so  that  it  should  not  be  too  close  to 
her  head,  when,  by  some  wild  and  fearful  accident,  the 
back  of  his  hand  happened  to  touch  her  hair.  It  was  the 
lightest  of  touches,  but  it  was  like  an  electric  shock;  he 
paused,  breathless;  he  was  quite  unnerved:  he  did  not 
know  whether  to  retreat  or  wait;  it  was  as  if  something 
had  stung  him  and  benumbed  his  senses.  And  light  as  the 
tuoch  was,  it  awoke  her.  Her  eyes  opened,  and  there  was 
a  sudden  fear  and  bewildernment  in  them  when  she  saw 
him  standing  over  her;  but  the  next  second  she  perceived 
what  he  had  been  doing  for  her,  and  kindness  and  thanks 
were  instantly  his  reward. 

"Oh,  thank  you!  thank  you!"  she  said,  with  smiling 
eyes.  And  he  was  glad  to  get  back  into  his  own  corner, 
and  to  think  over  this  that  had  happened,  and  to  wonder  at 
the  sudden  fear  that  had  paralyzed  him.  At  all  events,  he 
had  not  offended  her. 

The  dawn  arose  in  the  east,  the  cold  clear  blue  giving 
way  to  a  mystic  gray ;  but  still  the  moon  shone  palely  on 
the  palms  and  on  the  water  and  the  silent  plains.  And 
Ktiil  she  slept ;  and  he  was  wondering  whether  she  was 
dreaming  of  the  far  north,  and  of  the  place  that  she  longed 
to  make  a  home  of,  if  only  for  the  briefest  space.  And 
what  if  this  new  day  that  was  spreading  up  and  up,  and 
fighting  the  pallid  moonlight,  and  bringing  with  it  color 
::nd  life  to  brighten  the  awaking  world — what  if  this  new 
day  were  to  bring  with  it  a  new  courage,  and  he  were  to 
Lint  to  her,  or  even  to  tell  her  plainly  that  this  pathetic 
hope  of  hers  was  of  easy  accomplishment,  and  that,  after 
their  stay  at  Allt-nam-Ba,  if  it  grieved  her  tothink  of  leav- 
ing the  plaee  that  she  had  first  thought  to  make  a  home  of, 
there  was  another  home  there  that  would  \>e  proud  and 
glad  to  \velcome  her,  not  for  two  months  or  for  three 
months,  but  for  the  length  of  her  life?  Why  should  not 
Mr.  Winterbourne  be  free  to  follow  out  his  political  career? 
lie  had  gathered  from  Yolande  that  s:ie  considered  herself 
a  most  unfortunate  drag  and  incumbrance  on  her  father: 


YOLANDE.  91 

not  this  a  happy  solution  of  all  possible  difficulties  ?  In 
black  velvet,  more  especially,  Yolande  would  look  so  hand 
Borne  in  the  dining-room  at  Lynn  Towers. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

INTERVENTION. 

MRS.  GRAHAM  saw  clearly  before  her  the  difficulties 
and  danger  of  the  task  she  had  undertaken,  and  she  ap- 
proached it  with  much  circumspection  and  caution.  Time 
and  an  abundance  of  opportunities  were  on  her  side,  how- 
ever. Moreover,  she  and  Yolande  were  like  sisters  now  ; 
and  when  the  men-folk  were  smoking  together  in  some  other 
part  of  the  dahabeeyah,  and  talking  about  public  affairs  or 
their  chances  of  having  a  little  shooting  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Merhadj,  these  two  were  most  likely  seated  in  the  cool 
shade  of  the  Belvedere,  having  a  quiet  and  confidential  chat 
all  to  themselves,  the  while  the  slow-moving  panorama  of 
the  Nile  stole  stealthily  by. 

And  gradually  Mrs.  Graham  got  Yolande  to  think  a 
good  deal  about  the  future,  which  ordinarily  the  girl  was 
loath  to  do.  She  had  an  admirable  capacity  for  enjoy- 
ing the  present  moment,  so  long  as  the  weather  was  fine, 
and  her  father  not  a  long  way  off.  She  had  never  experi- 
enced any  trouble,  and  why  should  she  look  forward  to  any? 
She  was  in  perfect  health,  and  consequently  her  brain  was 
free  from  morbid  apprehensions.  Sometimes,  when  Mrs. 
Graham  was  talking  with  the  sadness  begotten  of  worldly 
wisdom,  the  younger  woman  would  laugh  lightly,  and  ask 
what  there  was  on  earth  to  depress  her — except,  perhaps, 
the  absence  of  dear  Baby.  In  short,  Yolande  could  not  be 
made  anxious  about  herself.  She  was  content  to  take  the 
present  as  it  was,  and  the  future  as  it  might  come.  She 
was  far  more  interested  in  watching  the  operations  of  this  or 
that  African  kingfisher,  when  the  big  black  and  gray  bird, 
after  fluttering  in  the  air  for  a  wrhile  in  the  manner  of  a 
hawk,  would  swoop  down  and  dive  into  the  river,  emerging 
with  a  small  silver  fish  in  its  beak. 

But  if  she  could  not  easily  be  made  anxious  about  her- 


92  YOLANDE. 

self,  she  very  easily  indeed  could  be  innde  anxious  about 
her  father;  and  Mrs.  Graham  quickly  discovered  that  any- 
thing suggested  about  him  was  instantly  sufficient  to  arouse 
her  interest  and  concern.  She  played  upon  that  pipe  skill- 
fully, and  yet  with  not  the  faintest  notion  that  her  siren 
music  was  anything  but  of  the  simplest  and  honestest  kind. 
Was  it  not  for  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  every  one  con- 
cerned ?  Even  Jim,  with  his  faculty  for  looking  at  the 
sardonic  side  of  things,  had  not  a  word  to  say  against  it. 
It  would  be  a  very  good  arrangement,  that  oracle  had  de- 
clared. 

"  Do  you  know,  dear,"  said  she,  one  morning,  to  Yo- 
lande,  "  what  Jim  has  just  been  saying  ? — that  he  would  not 
be  surprised  if,  sooner  or  later,  your  father  were  offered 
some  place  in  the  Government." 

Yolande  opened  her  eyes  wide  with  surprise.  But  then 
she  laughed,  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh  no.  It  is  impossible.  He  is  not  good  friends  with 
the  Government.  He  has  too  many  opinions  to  himself." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  pretty  Mrs.  Graham,  looking  at 
one  of  the  little  French  mirrors,  and  smoothing  her  curls. 
"I  don't  know.  You  should  hear  Jim,  anyway.  Of  course 
I  don't  mean  a  post  with  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet ;  but  office 
of  some  kind — an  Under-Secretaryship  or  something  of  that 
sort.  Jim  says  he  heard  just  before  he  left  town  lhat  the 
Government  were  going  to  try  to  conciliate  the  Radicals, 
and  that  some  member  below  the  gangway  would  most 
likely  be  taken  in.  It  would  please  some  of  the  northern 
towns ;  and  Slagpool  is  an  important  place." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  it  is  possible  ?  "  cried  the  girl,  with 
a  new  light  in  her  eyes.  "  My  papa  in  the  Ministry — and 
always  in  town  ?  " 

"'That's  just  it,  Yolande  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Graham.  "If 
your  papa  were  a  member  of  the  Government,  in  whatever 
place,  he  could  not  go  gallivanting  about  like  this — " 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,  certainly  not,"  the  girl  said,  eagerly. 
"He  would  live  in  London.  He  would  have  a  house — 3 
proper  home.  Do  you  think  it  is  likely  ?  I  never  heard  oi 
it  before,  But  why  should  it  not  be  ? — why  should  it  not 
be,  dear  Mrs.  Graham  ?  There  are  very  few  members  in 
the  House  of  Commons — why,  scarcely  any  at  all — who  are 
returned  by  such  a  number  of  persons.  Look  at  the  ma- 
jority he  always  has;  does  it  not  say  that  those  people  re 


YOLANDE.     .  93 

snort  him,  and  believe  he  is  working  for  the  good  of  the 
country  '?  Very  well ;  why  should  it  not  be  ?" 

"I  quite  agree  with  you  ;  and  Jim  says  it  is  not  at  nil 
unlikely.  But  you  are  talking  about  a  house,  Yohindo 
dear ;  well,  it  would  scarcely  be  worth  your  papa's  while  t* 
take  a  house  merely  for  you  ;  through  it  is  certainly  of  im- 
portance for  a  member  of  the  Government  to  have  a  town 
house,  and  entertain,  and  so  forth.  You  could  scarcely 
manage  that,  you  know,  my  dear;  you  are  rather  young; 
but  if  your  papa  were  to  marry  again  ?" 

"Yes?"  said  Yolande,  without  betraying  any  dismay. 

"  In  that  case  I  have  been  wondering  what  would  be- 
come of  you,"  said  the  other,  with  her  eyes  cast  down. 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right,"  said  the  girl,  cheerfully.  "That 
is  quite  right.  Madame  has  directed  me  to  that  once  or 
twice — often  ;  but  not  always  with  good  sense,  I  consider. 
For  it  can  not  always  happen  that  stepmother  and  step- 
daughter do  not  get"  on  well — if  there  is  one  who  is  very 
anxious,  to  please.  And  if  my  papa  were  to  marry  again, 
it  is  not  that  I  should  have  less  of  his  society  ;  I  should  have 
more  ;  if  there  was  a  home,  and  I  allowed  to  remain,  I  should 
have  more.  And  why  should  I  have  anything  but  kindness 
for  his  wife,  who  gives  me  a  home  ?  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  is 
not  I  who  would  make  any  quarrel." 

"  Oh  no  ;  I  dare  say  not — I  dare  say  not,  Yolande  dear," 
said  the  other,  with  a  gracious  smile.  "  You  are  not  terri- 
bly quarrelsome.  .  But  it  seldom  answers.  You  would  find 
yourself  in  the  way.  Sooner  or  later  you  would  find  your- 
self in  the  way." 

"  Then  1  would  go." 

"  Where  ?  " 

The  girl  made  a  little  gesture  by  turning  out  the  palms 
of  her  hands  ever  so  slightly. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  my  dear  child,  of  one  place  where  you 
could  go.  If  you  came  to  us  at  Inverstroy — now  or  then, 
or  at  any  time — there  is  a  home  there  waiting  for  you  ;  and 
Jim  and  I  would  just  make  a  sister  of  you." 

She  spoke  with  feeling,  and,  indeed,  with  honesty ;  for 
she  was  quite  ready  to  have  welcomed  Yolande  to  their 
northern  home,  wholly  apart  from  the  projects  of  the  Master 
of  Lynn.  And  Yolunde  for  a  second  put  her  hand  on  her 
her  friend's  hand. 

"  I  know  that,"  she,  "  and  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  think 
of  it ;  and  I  believe  it  true — so  much  so  that,  if  there  was 


94  YOLANDE. 

any  need,  I  would  accept  it  at  once.  And  it  is  a  very  nice 
thing  to  think  of  ;  that  there  are  friends  who  would  take  you 
into  their  own  home  if  there  were  need.  Oh,  I  assure  you, 
it  is  pleasant  to  think  of,  even  when  there  is  no  need  at  all." 

"  Will  you  come  and  try  it?  Will  you  come  and  see 
how  you  like  it?"  said  pretty  Mrs.  Graham,  with  a  coura- 
geous cheerfulness.  "  Why  not  ?  Your  papa  wants  to  be 
back  in  time  for  the  Budget,  or  even  before  that.  They 
say  that  it  will  be  a  late  session — that  if  they  get  away  for 
the  twelfth  they  will  be  lucky.  Now  you  know,  dear  Yo- 
lande,  between  ourselves,  your  father's  constituents  are  very 
forbearing.  It  is  all  very  well  for  us  to  make  a  joke  of  it 
here ;  but  really — really — really — " 

"  I  understand  you  very  well,"  said  Yolande,  quickly  ; 
4<  and  you  think  he  should  remain  in  London  till  the  twelfth, 
and  always  be  at  the  House  ?  Yes,  yes ;  that  is  what  I 
think  too.  Do  you  imagine  it  is  I  who  take  him  away  oa 
voyage  after  voyage  ?  No !  For  me,  I  would  rather  hav« 
him  always  at  the^House.  I  would  rather  read  his  speeches 
in  the  newspaper  than  see  any  more  cities,  and  cities,  and 
cities." 

"  Very  well ;  but  what  are  you  going  to  do,  Yolande 
dear,  between  the  time  of  our  getting  back  and  the 
twelfth?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Yolande,  with  her  face  brightening,  "  that 
will  be  a  busy  time — no  more  of  going  away — and  I  shall 
be  all  the  time  in  the  hotel  in  Albemarle  Street — and  papa 
and  I  dining  together  every  night,  and  having  a  chat  before 
he  goes  to  the  House." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken  there,"  said  Mrs.  Graham, 
promptly.  "  Your  father  won't  let  you  stay  all  that  time 
in  town.  He  hates  the  very  name  of  town.  He  is  too  fond 
of  you,  too  careful  of  you,  Yolande  dear,  and  too  proud  of 
the  roses  in  your  cheeks,  to  let  you  shut  yourself  up  in  a 
town  hotel." 

"  But  look  at  me  !  "  the  girl  said,  indignantly.  "  Do  I 
look  unwell  ?  Am  I  sick-looking?  Why  "should  not  I  live 
in  a  town  hotel  as  well  as  others  ?  Are  all  unwell  who  live 
in  London  ?  No  ;  it  is  folly  to  say  that.  And  if  anything 
were  likely  to  make  me  unwell,  it  is  not  living  in  London ; 
but  it  is  the  fretting,  when  I  am  away  from  London,  that  I 
can  be  of  no  use  to  my  papa,  and  that  he  is  living  alone 
there.  Think  of  his  living  alone  in  the  hotel,  and  dining 
alone  there — worse  than  that  still,  dining  at  the  House  of 


YOLANDE  <i;> 

Commons!  Why,  it  was  only  last  night  Colonel  Graham 
and  he  were  speaking  of  the  bad  dinners  there — the  heat 
and  the  crush  and  the  badly  cooked  joints — yes,  and  I  sit- 
ting there,  and  saying  to  myself,  'Very  well,  and  what  is 
I  lie  use  of  having  a  daughter  if  she  can  not  get  for  you  a 
pretty  dinner,  with  flowers  on  the  table  ? '  " 

"I  understand  you  so  well;  when  you  speak  it  is  like 
myself  thinking,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  in  her  kindly  way 
(and  not  at  all  imagining  that  she  was  anything  of  a  hypo- 
crite, or  talking  for  a  purpose)  ;  "  but  you  may  put  it  out 
of  your  head.  Your  father  won't  let  you  stay  in  town.  I 
know  that." 

"  Then  I  suppose  it  will  be  Oatlands  Park,"  said  Yo- 
lande,  with  a  bit  of  a  sigh. 

"No.  Why  should  it?"  said  her  friend,  briskly. 
*'  Come  to  Inverstroy.  Go  back  with  us.  Then  we  will 
see  about  the  cook  and  the  housemaid  in  Inverness ;  and 
Archie  will  get  the  dog-cart  and  horses  for  you ;  and  we 
might  even  go  down  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  see  that  the  keeper 
has  kept  on  iires  during  the  winter,  and  that  the  lodge  is 
all  right.  And  then  we  will  all  go  on  to  Inverstroy — 
Archie  as  well ;  and  he  will  take  you  out  salmon-fishing, 
for  I  shall  have  my  own  house  to  attend  to  for  a  while  ; 
hut  we  will  make  you  just  one  of  the  family,  and  you  will 
amuse  yourself  just  as  you  think  best ;  and  if  we  don't  pet 
you,  and  make  you  comfortable,  and  as  happy  as  ever  you 
were  in  your  life,  then  my  name  isn't  Mary  Graham.  You 
will  just  see  what  a  Highland  welcome  we  will  give  you  !  " 

"  I  know — I  know,"  said  the  girl.  "  How  can  I  thank 
you  for  such  kindness?  But  then  to  think  of  my  papa 
being  all  that  time  left  by  himself  in  London " 

"  My  dear  Yolande,  I  must  speak  frankly  to  you,  even 
if  you  fancy  it  cruel.  Don't  you  imagine  your  father  would 
stand  a  little  better  with  his  constituents^and  consequently 
be  more  at  ease  in  his  own  mind,  if  he  were  left  by  himself 
a  little  more  than  at  present?  Don't  you  think  it  might  be 
prudent  ?  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  for  every 
one  if  he  were  left  a  little  freer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes — it  is  so — I  can  see  it." 

"  And  if  you  were  with  us,  he  could  give  his  whole  time 
and  attention  to  Parliament/' 

"  Yes,  yes — though  I  had  other  wishes  as  well,"  the  girl 
said,  with  her  lips  becoming  a  little  tremulous. 

"  It  is  a  very  awkward  situation,"  said  Mrs.  Graham, 


fG  YOLANDE. 

with  abundant  cheerfulness  ;  "  but  I  see  the  natural  way  out 
of  it.  Perhaps  you  don't,  dear  Yolanrle  ;  but  I  do.  I  know 
what  will  happen.  You  will  have  a  house  and  home  of 
your  own  ;  and  your  father  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you 
happy  and  settled  ;  and  he  will  give  proper  attention  to 
Parliament  while  Parliament  is  sitting ;  but  when  Parlia- 
ment is  not  sitting  then  he  will  come  to  you  for  relaxation 
and  amusement,  and  you  must  have  a  salmon-rod  ready  for 
him  in  the  spring,  and  in  the  autumn  nice  luncheons  to  be 
sent  up  the  hill,  where  he  will  be  with  the  others.  Now 
isn't  that  something  to  look  forward  to?" 

"  Yes — but — a  house  of  my  own?  "  the  girl  said,  bewil- 
dered. 

"Of  course  when  you  marry,  my  dear.  That  is  the  ob- 
vious solution  of  the  whole  difficulty  :  it  will  put  every  one 
in  a  proper  position." 

She  said  neither  yea  nor  nay;  there  was  no  affectation 
of  maiden  coyness  ;  no  protest  of  any  kind.  But  her  eyes 
were  distant  and  thoughtful ;  not  sad  exactly,  but  seemingly 
filled  with  memories — probably  memories  of  her  own  futile 
Rchemes  and  hopes. 

That  afternoon  they  came  in  sight  of  some  walls  and  a 
minarat  or  two,  half  hidden  by  groves  of  palms  lying  along 
the  high  banks  of  the  river  ;  and  these  they  were  told  be- 
longed to  Merhadj  ;  but  the  Reis  had  had  orders  to  moor 
the  dehabeeyah  by  the  shore  at  some  short  distance  from 
the  town,  so  that  the  English  party  should  not  be  quartered 
among  the  confusion  and  squalor  further  along.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  was  that  very  soon  they  found  themselves 
the  practical  owners  of  a  portion  of  Africa  which  seemed 
to  be  uninhabited ;  for  when  the  whole  party  got  ashore 
(with  much  excitement  and  eager  interest),  and  waded  across 
the  thick  sand,  and  then  entered  a  far-stretching  wood  of 
acacia-trees,  they  could  find  no  trace  of  human  occupation; 
the  only  living  things  bein£  an  abundance  of  hoopoes—- 
the beautiful  red-headed  and  crested  birds  were  so  tame 
that  one  could  have  flung  one's  cap  at  them — and  wood- 
|)i:jvoiis,  the  latter  of  a  brilliant  blue  and  gray  and  white. 
But  by  and  by,  as  they  wandered  along — highly  pleased  to 
be  on  shore  again,  and  grateful  fo  the  shelter  of  the  trees — 
they  met  a  slow  procession  of  Arabs,  with  donkeys  and 
camels,  wending  their  way  through  the  dry  rushes  and  hot 
sand  ;  and  as  the  animals  were  heavily  Isiden,  they  made 
no  doubt  that  the  natives  wure  carrying  in  farm  produce  to 


YOLAXDE.  97 

Poll  at  Merhadj.  Tlien  when  they  returned  to  the  dnlio- 
bcevah,  thev  found  a  note  from  Isniat  KtTendi,  written  in 
excellent  English,  saying  that  his  fatlier  had  just  returned 
from  the  interior,  and  that  they  both  would  do  themselves 
the  honor  of  paying  a,  visit  the  following  morning. 

But  what  to  do  till  dinner-time — now  that  the  dahabee- 
ynh  was  no  longer  moving  past  the  familiar  features  of  the 
Kile?  Ahmed  came  to  the  rescue.  The  chef  was  anxious 
to  have  some  pigeons:  would  the  gentlemen  go  ashore  and 
shoot  some  for  him  ?  The  gentlemen  flatly  refused  to  go 
and  kill  those  half-tame  creatures  ;  but  they  discovered  that 
Ahmed  could  shoot  a  little ;  so  they  lent  him  a  gun,  and 
offered  to  beat  the  wood  for  him.  It  was  an  occupation,  at 
leas i.  And  so  the  two  women  were  left  by  themselves 
again,  with  nothing  before  them  but  the  choosing  of  a  cos- 
tume for  dinner,  and  the  donning  of  the  same. 

It  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  missed  ;  and  yet  Mrs. 
Graham  was  terribly  nervous.  She  had  an  uncomfortable 
suspicion  all  day  that  she  had  not  been  quite  ingenuous  in 
her  conversation  of  the  morning;  and  she  was  anxious  to 
confess  and  clear  her  mind,  and  yet  afraid  of  the  effects  of 
her  confession.  But  Yolande  had  spoken  so  reasonably  and 
sensibly  ;  she  seemed  to  recognize  the  situation  ;  why  should 
she  be  startled  ? 

For  good  or  ill,  she  determined  to  plunge  in  media*  res; 
and  she  adopted  a  gay  air,  though  her  lingers  were  rather 
shaky.  She  put  her  arm  within  Yol. aide's  arm.  They 
were  slowly  walking  up  and  down  the  upper  deck,  under 
the  awning.  They  could  just  see  the  gentlemen  of  the 
party,  along  with  Ahmed,  disappearing  into  the  grove  of 
dark  green  acacias. 

"  Yolande,  I  am  a  wicked  women,"  she  said,  suddenly. 
"  Hear  my  confession.  I  was  not  quite  frank  with  you  this 
morning,  and  I  can't  rest  till  I  have  told  you.  The  fact  is, 
my  dear  child,  when  I  spoke  to  you  about  the  possibility  of 
your  marrying,  I  knew  of  the  wishes  of  one  or  two  others, 
and  I  ought  to  have  told  you.  And  now  I  wish  to  confess 
everything;  and  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  say  anything  to 
offend  or  alarm  you — " 

"About  my  marrying ?"  said  the  girl,  looking  rather 
frightened.  "  Oh  no  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  know.  I  do  not 
*Tish  to  know  of  anything  that  any  one  has  said  to  you." 

u  Then  you  have  guessed  ?  " 

The  mere  question  was  an   intimation.     The  girl's  fare 


98  YOLANDE. 

flushed  ;  and  she  said,  with  an  eager  haste,  and  in  obvious 
trouble  : 

"Why  should  we  speak  of  any  such  thing?  Dear  Mrs. 
Graham,  why  should  I  be  afraid  of  the  future?  No  ;  I  am 
not  afraid." 

"  But  there  are  others  to  be  considered — one,  at  least, 
whose  hopes  have  been  clear  enough  to  the  rest  of  us  for 
some  time  back.  Dearest  Yolande,  am  I  am  speaking  too 
much  now  ?  " 

She  stood  still,  and  took  both  of  the  girl's  hands  in  hers. 

"Ami  telling  you  too  much?  Or  am  I  telling  you 
what  you.  have  guessed  already  ?  I  hope  I  haven't  spoken 
too  soon.  If  I  have  done  anything  indiscreet,  don't  blame 
him!  I  could  not  talk  to  you  just  like  sister  to  sister,  and 
have  this  knowledge  in  the  background,  and  be  hiding  it 
like  a  secret  from  you." 

Yolande  drew  her  hands  away ;  she  seemed  scarcely 
able  to  find  utterance. 

"Oh  no,  Mrs.  Graham,  it  is  a  mistake,  it  is  all  a  mis- 
take; you  don't  mean  what  you  say — " 

"But  indeed  I  do  !"  the  other  said,  eagerly.  "Dearest 
Yolande,  how  can  I  help  wishing  to  have  you  for  a  sister? 
But  if  I  have  revealed  the  secret  too  soon,  why,  you  must 
forget  it  altogether,  and  let  Archie  speak  for  himself.  But 
you  know  I  do  wish  it.  I  can't  help  telling  you.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  what  we  might  be  to  each  other  up  there 
in  the  Highlands ;  for  I  never  had  a  sister,  and  my  mother 
died  when  I  was  quite  young,  like  yours,  dear  Yolande. 
You  can't  tell  how  pleased  I  was  when  Archie  began  to — to 
show  you  attention  ;  and  I  made  sure  you  must  have  seen 
how  anxious  he  was  to  please  you — " 

She  paused  for  a  second  here,  but  there  was  no  answer : 
the  girl  was  too  bewildered. 

"  Why,  Jim  would  be  like  a  big  brother  to  you ;  you  can't 
tell  how  fond  he  is  of  you;  and  your  father  approving 
too—" 

The  girl  started  as  if  she  had  been  struck,  and  her  face 
became  quite  white. 

"Did  you  say — that  my  father  wished  it?  "she  said, 
•lowly. 

"Oh  yes,  oh  yes,"  Mrs.  Graham  said.  "What  more 
natural  ?  What  should  he  wish  for  more  than  to  see  you 
happily  married  ?  I  wouldn't  say  that  he  would  be  more 
free  to  attend  to  public  affairs;*!  wouldn't  say  that  was 


YOLANDK.  09 

In's  reason,  though  it  might  be  one  of  several  reasons ;  but 
I  can  very  well  understand  his  being  pleased  .it  the  notion 
of  seeing  you  married  and  comfortably  settled  among 
people  who  would  make  much  of  you,  as  I  really  and  truly 
think  we  should.  Now.  dear  Yolande,  don't  say  anything 
in  haste.  I  am  not  asking  you  on  behalf  of  Archie;  I  am 
telling  you  a  secret  to  clear  my  own  mind.  Ah,  and  if  you 
only  knew  how  glad  we  should  be  to  have  you  among  ut« !  " 

The  girl's  eyes  had  slowly  filled  with  tears,  but  she 
would  not  own  it.  She  had  courage.  She  looked  her 
companion  fair  in  the  face,  as  if  to  say,  "Do  you  think  I 
am  crying?  I  am  not."  But  when  she  smiled,  it  was  a 
very  strange  sort  of  smile,  and  very  near  crying. 

"  Then  if  it  is  a  secret,  let  it  remain  a  secret,  dear  Mrs. 
Graham,"  said  she,  with  a  sort  of  cheerfulness.  "  Perhaps 
it  will  al \vays  remain  one,  and  no  harm  done.  I  did  not 
know  that  my  papa  wished  that ;  I  did  not  suspect  it.  No  : 
how  could  I  ?  When  we  have  talked  of  the  years  to  come, 
that  was  not  the  arrangement  that  seemed  best." 

She  paused  for  a  while. 

"Now  I  remember  what  you  were  saying  in  the  morn- 
ing. And  you  knew  then  also  that  my  papa  wished 
it  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly — not  that  he  has  spoken  directly  to 
me—" 

But  Yolande  was  scarcely  listening.  Rapid  pictures 
were  passing  before  her — pictures  that  had  been  suggested 
by  Mrs.  Graham  herself.  And  Yolande's  father,  not  hei 
future  husband,  was  the  central  figure  of  them. 

Then  she  seemed  to  throw  aside  these  speculations  with 
an  effort  of  will. 

"Come,"  she  said,  more  cheerfully,  "is  it  not  time  to 
dress?  We  will  put  away  that  secret;  it  is  just  as  if  you 
had  never  spoken;  it  is  all  away  in  the  air — vanished. 
And  you  must  not  tell  your  brother  that  you  have  been 
talking  to  me;  for  you  know,  dear  Mrs.  Graham,  he  has 
been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  would  not  give  him  pain — oh, 
not  for  anything — " 

*'  My  clear  Yolande,  if  he  thought  there  was  a  chance 
of  your  saying  yes,  he  would  be  out  of  his  senses  with  joy !  " 
exclaimed  the  other. 

"Oli,  but  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of!*'  said  the  girl, 
with  quite  a  practical  air.  "It  is  not" to  be  thought  of  at  all 
as  yet.  My  papa  has  not  said  anything  to  me.  And  a 


100  YOLANDE. 

little  thinking  between  us  two — what  is  that?    Nothing — 
air — it  goes  away;  why  should  we  remember  it?" 

Mrs.  Graham  could  not  understand  this  attitude  at  all. 
Yolande  had  said  neither  yes  nor  no  ;  she  seemed  neither 
elated  or  depressed  ;  and  she  certainly  had  not — as  -most 
young  ladies  are  supposed  to  do  when  they  have  decided 
upon  a  refusal — expressed  any  compassion  for  the  unfor- 
tunate suitor.  Moreover,  at  dinner,  Mrs.  Graham  observed 
that  more  than  once  Yolande  regarded  the  -young  Master 
of  Lynn  with  a  very  attentive  scrutiny.  It  was  not  a 
conscious,  furtive  scrutiny ;  it  was  cairn  and  unabashed. 
And  Mrs.  Graham  also  noticed  that  when  her  brother 
looked  up  to  address  Yolande,  and  met  her  eyes,  those  eyes 
were  not  hastily  withdrawn  in  maiden  confusion,  but 
rather  answered  his  look  with  a  pleased  friendliness.  She 
was  certainly  studying  him,  the  sister  thought. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    SETTLEMENT. 

NEXT  morning  there  was  much  hurrying  to  and  fro  on 
board  the  dahabeeyah  in  anticipation  of  the  visit  of  the 
Governor ;  so  that  Mrs.  Graham  had  no  chance  of  having 
an  extended  talk  with  her  brother.  Nevertheless,  she 
managed  to  convey  to  him  a  few  covert  words  of  informa- 
tion and  counsel. 

"  Archie,"  said  she,  u  I  have  spoken  to  Yolande — I  have 
linted  something  to  her." 

"  No!  "  he  said,  looking  rather  frightened. 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  be  much  alarmed,"  she  said,  with  a 
significant  smile.  "  Rather  the  other  way.  She  seems 
quite  to  know  how  you  have  wished  to  be  kind  and  atten- 
tive to  her — quite  sensible  of  it,  in  fact;  and  when  I  hinted 
something — " 

"She  did  not  say  *  no  '  outright?"  he  interrupted, 
eagerly;  and  there  was  a  flush  of  gladness  on  his  face. 

His  sister  glanced  around. 

"  I  thought  there  could  be  no  harm  if  I  told  her  that 
Jim  and  I  would  like  to  have  her  for  a  sister,"  she  answered, 
demurely. 

"And  she  did  not  say  '  no  '   outright?"  he  repeated. 


YO LANDS.  I()i 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Graham  said,  after  &>. second,  "I  am  not 
going  to  tell  you  anything  more.  It  vvoi-lu  no/,,  be.  :'air._ 
It  is  your  business,  not  mine.  I'm  out  of  it  now.  I'haVd 
intermeddled  quite  enough.  But  I  don't  think  she  hates 
you.  And  she  seems  rather  pleased  to  think  of  living  in 
the  Highlands,  with  her  father  having  plenty  of  amusement 
there,  you  know  ;  and  perhaps  she  might  be  brought  to 
consider  a-  permanent  arrangement  of  that  kind  not  so 
undesirable;  and — and — well,  you'd  better  see  for  yourself. 
As  I  say,  Jim  and  I  will  be  very  glad  to  have  her  for  a 
sister;  .and  I  can't  say  more,  can"  I?  " 

She  could  not  say  more  then,  at  all  events,  for  at  this 
moment  Colonel  Graham  appeared  on  the  upper  deck  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  Governor's  barge  was  just  then 
coming  down  the  river.  Mr.  Winterbourne  and  Yolande 
were  instantly  summoned  from  below;  some  further  dis- 
position of  chairs  and  divans  was  made ;  some  boxes  of 
cigarettes  were  sent  for ;  and  presently  the  sound  of  oars 
alongside  announced  the  arrival  of  the  chief  notables  of 
Mertiadj. 

The  Master  of  Lynn  saw  and  heard  little  of  what 
followed  ;  he  was  far  too  busy  with  the  glad  and  bewilder- 
ing prospect  that  his  sister's  obscure  hints  had  placed  before 
him.  And  again  and  again  he  glanced  at  Yolande,  timidly, 
and  yet  with  an  increasing  wonder.  He  began  to  ask  him- 
self whether  it  was  really  true  that  his  sister  had  spoken  to 
her.  The  girl  betrayed  no  consciousness,  no  embarrassment ; 
she  had  greeted  him  on  that  morning  just  as  on  other 
mornings  ;  at  this  moment  she  was  regarding  the  arrival  of 
those  grave  officials  with  an  interest  which  seemed  quite 
oblivious  of  his  presence.  As  for  him,  he  looked  on 
impatiently.  He  wished  it  was  all  over.  He  wished  to 
have  some  private  speech  with  her,  to  have  some  inquiry 
of  her  eyes — surely  her  eyes  would  make  some  telltale 
confession  ?  And  in  a  vague  kind  of  way  he  grew  to  think 
that  the  Governor's  son,  Ism  at  Effendi,  who  was  acting  as 
interpreter,  and  who  spoke  English  excellently,  addressed 
a  little  too  much  of  the  conversation  to  the  two  ladies. 
Moreover,  it  was  all  very  well  for  him,  on  coming  on  board, 
to  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Graham,  for  he  had  known  her 
in  India,  but  why  with  Yolande?" 

The  Governor — a  corpulent  and  sallow-faced  old  gen- 
tleman who  looked  like  a  huge  frog — and  his  companions 
sut  in  solemn  state,  while  young  Ismat,  with  much  grace  of 


102  YOLAtfDE. 

r        I 

nVanner  and' remarkably  eloquent  eyes,  hoped  that  the  visi- 
tor •  ,Ayer'({  laoinfort.abl'e  on  board  the  dahabeeyah,  and  so 
forth-  -He- was1' a  well-dressed  young  gentleman;  his  black 
frock-coat,  white  waistcoat,  and  red  tarboosh  were  all  of 
the  newest  and  smartest,  and  his  singularly  small  feet 
were  incased  in  boots  of  brilliant  polish.  The  Master  of 
Lynn  considered  him  a  coxcomb,  and  also  a  Frenchified 
semi-theatrical  coxcomb.  But  the  women-folk-  liked  his 
pleasant  manners  and  his  speaking  eyes ;  and  when  he  said 
that  he  had  never  been  to  England,  but  intended  to  go  the 
next  year,  Mrs.  Graham  made  him  definitely  promise  that 
he  would  pay  them  a  visit  at  Inverstroy. 

"And  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  the  young  gentleman 
with  the  swarthy  face  and  the  brilliant  white  teeth,  "  does 
she  live  in  Scotland  also?" 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  placidly ;  "  but  I  hope 
you  will  find  her  there  when  you  come.  We  want  her  to  go 
back  with  us  when  we  go  back ;  and  if  she  likes  her  visit, 
perhaps  she  will  come  again.  I  hope  you  will  tind  her  with 
us." 

"  And  I  also,  madam,  hope  to  have  the  felicity  of  the 
visit  that  you  propose,"  said  he,  "  if  politics  will  permit 
me." 

He  directed  an  inquiring  and  rather  curious  glance  at 
Colonel  Graham. 

"  You  did  not  hear  anything  very  remarkable  in  Cairo, 
sir?" 

"  Well,  nothing  remarkable,"  said  the  stout  soldier. 
"  Lots  of  rumors.  Alway  plenty  of  that  in  politics.  Mostly 
lies.  At  the  Consulate  they  thought  we  were  safe  enough. 

The  young  man  turned  to  his  father,  who  was  silently 
and  solemnly  sipping  his  coffee,  apparently  quite  uninterested 
in  what  was  going  on,  and  spoke  in  Arabic  to  him  for  a 
second  or  two.  The  old  gentleman  appeared  to  grunt  as- 
sent. 

"My  father  says  he  will  have  much  delight  in  sending 
two  or  three  soldiers  to  accompany  your  party  if  you  are 
making  excursions  into  the  interior.  There  is  no  danger, 
except  that  some  bad  men  will  try  to  rob  when  they  can. 
Or  if  you  will  permit  me — if  you  will  have  the  grace  to  per- 
mit me — 1  will  accompany  you  myself." 

"  But  to  take  up  so  much  of  your  time — "  said  prettj 
All's.  Graham,  with  one  of  her  most  pleasant  smiles. 

He  wuved  his  hand  in  a,  deprecatory  fashion. 


VOLA.YDE.  108 

"  It  will  be  too  charming  for  me.  Perhaps  your  drago- 
man does  not  know  the  district  as  well  as  I.  Do  you  per- 
mit me?  Shall  I  come  to-morrow,  with  everything  pre- 
pared ?  " 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Ismat,"  said  Colonel  Graham,  "  you'd 
better  come  along  and  dine  with  us  this  evening ;  then  we  can 
talk  it  over,  In  trhe  meantime  we  can't  keep  your  father 
and  the  other  gentlemen  waiting  while  we  discuss  our  ram- 
bles. Will  you  please  tell  his  Excellency  once  more  how 
much  obliged  we  are,  and  honored  by  his  visit,  and  that  we 
will  do  ourselves  the  pleasure  of  coming  to  see  him  at  Mer- 
hadj  to-morrow  if  that  will  suit  his  Excellency's  conveni- 
ence?" 

This  was  the  final  arrangement — that  young  Ismat 
Effendi  was  to  come  along  to  dinner  in  the  evening — a  pros- 
pect which  seemed  to  please  htm  highly.  Very  soon  after 
the  grave  company  was  seated  in  the  stern  of  the  barge, 
and  the  big  oars  were  once  more  at  work.  The  dahabeeyah 
returned  to  its  normal  state  of  silence  ;  the  little  party  of 
Europeans  were  left  again  to  their  own  society ;  and  the 
Master  of  Lynn,  a  little  anxious  and  excited,  and  almost 
fearing  to  meet  Yolande's  eyes,  and  yet  drawn  toward  her 
neighborhood  by  a  secret  spell,  declined  to  go  ashore  with 
the  other  two  gentlemen,  and  remained  with  his  sister  and 
Yolande  in  the  Belvedere,  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  canvas 
awning. 

No,  she  betrayed  not  the  slightest  embarrassment  at  his 
sitting  thus  quite  near  her  ;  it  was  he  who  was  nervous  .and 
awkward  in  his  speech.  She  was  engaged  in  some  delicate 
needlework ;  from  time  to  time  she  spread  it  out  on  her  lap 
to  regard  it,  and  all  the  time  she  was  chatting  freely  with 
Mrs.  Graham  about  the  recent  visitors  and  their  grave 
demeanor,  their  almost  European  costume,  their  wonder- 
fully small  feet,  and  so  forth. 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  ashore?  "she  said,  turning  with 
frank  eyes  to  the  Master  of  Lynn.  "  It  is  so  interesting  to 
see  the  strange  birds,  the  strange  plants." 

"  It  is  cooler  on  the  river,"  said  he. 

He  was  wondering  whether  his  sister  would  get  up  and 
go  away  and  leave  them  together,  and  he  was  half  afraid 
she  would  and  half  afraid  she  would  not.  But  at  all  events 
he  was  now  resolved  that  on  the  first  opporrunity  he  would 
speak  to  irolande  himself.  He  would  not  trust  to  any  go- 
between.  Was  it  not  enough  that  she  had  had  some  in- 


104  YOLANDE. 

timation   made  to  her  of  his   wishes  and  hopes,  and  yet 
showed  no  signs  of  fear  at  his  approach  ? 

The  midday  went  by,  and  he  found  no  chance  of  ad- 
dressing her.  His  sister  and  she  sat  together,  and  sewed  and 
chatted,  or  stopped  to  watch  some  passing  boat,  and  listen 
to  the  boatmen  singing  a  long  and  melancholy  chorus  to  the 
clanking  of  the  oars.  At  lunch-time  Mr.  Winterbourne  and 
Colonel  Graham  turned  up.  Then  in  the  afternoon  the 
whole  of  them  got  into  a  boat,  and  were  rowed  away  to  a 
long  and  flat  and  sandy  island  on  the  other  side  of  the  Nile, 
which  they  explored  in  a  leisurely  way  ;  and  then  back 
again  to  the  dahabeeyah  for  a  draught  of  cold  tea  in  the 
welcome  shade  of  the  awning. 

It  was  not  until  near  the  end  of  the  day  that  the  long- 
looked-for  opportunity  arrived  :  indeed,  nearly  every  one 
had  gone  below  to  get  ready  for  dinner;  but  Yolande  had 
lingered  above  to  watch  the  coming  over  of  the  twilight.  It 
was  a  strange  enough  sight  in  its  way.  For  after  the  yel- 
low color  had  died  out  of  the  bank  of  bearded  corn  above 
the  river's  edge,  and  while  the  strip  of  acacia-trees  over  that 
again  had  grown  solemn  and  dark  against  the  clear,  pallid, 
blue-gray  sky  of  the  south,  far  away  in  the  northwestern 
heavens  there  still  lingered  a  glow  of  warmer  light,  and  a 
few  clouds  high  up  had  caught  a  saffron  tinge  from  the 
sinking  sun.  It  seemed  as  if  they  here  were  shut  in  with 
the  dark,  while  far  away  in  the  north,  over  the  Surrey  lanes, 
and  up  among  the  Westmoreland  waters,  and  out  amid  the 
distant  Ilebrideen  isles,  the  summer  evening  was  still  fair 
and  shining.  It  led  one  to  dream  of  home.  The  imagin- 
ation took  wings.  It  was  pleasant  to  think  of  those  beauti- 
ful and  glowing  scenes,  here  where  the  gloom  of  the  silent 
desert  was  gathering  all  around. 

She  was  standing  by  the  rail  of  the  deck  ;  and  when  the 
others  had  gone  he  quietly  went  over  to  her,  and  began 
talking  to  her — about  the  Highlands  mostly,  and  of  the 
long  clear  twilights  there,  and  how  he  hoped  she  would 
accept  his  sister's  invitation  to  go  back  home  with  them 
wlieu  they  returned  to  England.  And  when  she  said  some- 
thing very  pretty  about  the  kindness  of  all  of  them  to  her, 
he  spoke  a  little  more  warmly,  and  asked  if  there  was  any 
wonder.  People  got  to  know  one  another  intimately 
through  a  constant  companionship  like  this,  and  got  to 
know  and  admire  and  love  beautiful  qualities  of  disposition 
and  mind.  And  then  he  told  her  it  would  not  bo  honest  ii 


YOLAXDE  105 

he  did  not  confess  to  her  that  he  was  aware  that  his  sister 
had  spoken  to  her — it  was  best  to  be  frank;  and  ho  knew 
she  was  so  kind  she  would  not  be  angry  if  there  had  been 
any  indiscretion  ;  and  he  begged  for  her  forgiveness  if  she 
had  been  in  any  way  offended.  He  spoke  in  a  very  frank 
and  manly  way;  and  she  let  him  speak,  for  she  was  quite 
incapable  of  saying  anything.  Her  fingers  were  working 
nervously  with  a  small  pocket-book  she  held,  and  she  had 
turned  partly  away,  dreading  to  lift  her  eyes,  and  yet  unable 
to  go  until  she  had  answered  him  somehow.  Then  she 
managed  to  say,  rather  hurriedly  nnd  breathlessly, — 

"Oh  no,  I  am  not  offended.  Why,  it  is — a  great  honor 
— I — I  knew  it  was  your  sister's  kindness  and  friendship 
that  made  her  speak  to  me.  Please  let  me  go  away  now — " 

He  had  put  his  hand  on  her  arm  unwittingly. 

"But  may  I  hope,  Yolande?  May  I  hope?"  he  said 
and  he  stooped  down  to  listen  for  the  faintest  word.  "I 
don't  want  you  to  pledge  yourself  altogether  now.  Give 
me  time.  May  I  try  to  win  yon  ?  Do  you  think  sometimes 
— some  time  of  your  own  choosing,  as  far  ahead  as  you  may 
wish — you  will  consent?  May  I  hope  for  it?  May  I  look 
forward  to  it — some  day. 

"Oh,  but  I  cannot  tell  you — I  cannot  tell  you  now," 
she  said,  in  the  same  breathless  way.  "  I  am  sorry  if  I  have 
given  any  pain — any  anxiety — but — some  other  time  I  will 
try  to  talk  to  you — or  my  papa  will  tell  you — but  not  now. 
You  have  always  been  so  kind  to  me  that  I  ask  it  from 
you—" 

She  stole  away  in  the  gathering  darkness,  her  head  bent 
down  :  she  had  not  once  turned  her  eyes  to  his.  And  lie 
remained  there  for  a  time,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  had 
said  or  what  she  had  answered,  but  vaguely  and  happily 
conscious  that  she  had  not,  at  all  events,  refused  him. 
Was  it  not  much  ?  He  was  harassed  by  all  kinds  of  doubts, 
surmises,  hesitations;  but  surely  prevailing  over  these  was 
a  buoyant  hope,  a  touch  of  triumph  even.  He  would  fain 
have  gone  away  for  a  long  stroll  in  the  dusk  to  have 
reasoned  out  his  hopes  and  guesses  with  himself ;  but  here 
was  dinner-time  approaching,  and  yonng  Ismat  was  coming ; 
and  he — that  is,  the  Master  of  Lynn — began  to  have  the 
consciousness  that  Yolande  in  a  measure  belonged  to  him, 
and  that  he  must  be  there.  He  went  down  the  steps  with 
a  light  and  a  proud  heart*.  Yolunde  was  his,  lie  almost  felt 


106  YOLANDE. 

assured.  How  should  she  regard  him  when  next  they 
met? 

And  indeed  at  dinner  there  was  no  longer  any  of  that 
happy  serenity  of  manner  on  her  part  that  had  puzzled  him 
before.  Pier  self-consciousness  and  embarrassment  were  so 
great  as  to  be  almost  painful  to  witness.  She  never  lifted 
her  eyes ;  she  ate  and  drank  next  to  nothing;  when  she 
pretended  to  be  listening  to  Ismat  Effendi's  descriptions  of 
the  troubles  in  the  Soudan,  any  one  who  knew  must  have 
seen  that  she  was  a  quite  perfunctory  listener,  and  probably 
understood  but  little  of  what  was  being  said.  But  then 
no  one  knew  that  he  had  spoken  but  himself,  and  he  strove 
to  convince  her  that  he  was  not  regarding  her  by  entering 
eagerly  into  this  conversation  about  the  False  Prophet; 
and  though  now  and  again  her  trouble  and  confusion 
perplexed  him — along  with  the  recollection  that  she  had 
been  so  anxious  to  say  nothing  definite — still,  on  the  whole, 
triumph  and  rejoicing  were  in  his  heart.  And  how  beautiful 
she  looked,  even  with  the  pensive  face  cast  down  !  No 
wonder  young  Ismat  had  admired  her  that  morning ;  the 
very  Englishness  of  her  appearance  must  have  struck  him 
— the  tall  stature,  the  line  complexion,  the  ruddy  golden 
hair,  and  the  clear,  proud,  calm,  self-confident  look  of  the 
maidenly  eyes.  This  was  a  bride  fit  for  a  home  coming  at 
Lynn  Towers! 

J>ut,  alas!  Yolande's  self-confidence  seemed  to  have 
strangely  forsaken  her  that  evening.  When  they  were  all 
up  on  deck,  taking  their  coffee  in  the  red  glow  shed  by  the 
lanterns,  she  got  hold  of  her  father,  and  drew  him  aside 
into  the  darkness. 

"  What  is  it,  Yolande?"  said  he,   in  surprise. 

She  took  hold  of  his  hand  ;  both  hers  were  trembling. 

"I  have  something  to  tell  you,  papa — something 
serious." 

Then  he  knew,  and  for  a  moment  his  heart  sank  ;  but  he 
maintained  a  gay  demeanor.  Had  he  not  reasoned  the 
whole  matter  out  with  himself?  He  had  foreseen  this 
crisis;  he  had  nerved  himself  by  anticipation. 

4-4  Oh,  I  know — I  know  already,  Yolande,'rsaid  he,  very 
cheerfully.  " Do  you  think  I  can't  spy  secrets?  And  of 
course  you  come  to  me,  with  your  hands  trembling,  and 
you  think  you  have  something  dreadful  to  confess,  whereas 
it  is  nothing  but  the  most  ordinary  and  commonplace  thing 
in  the  world.  You  need  not  make  any  confession.  Young 


YOLANDE.  \dl 

Leslie  has  spoken  to  me.  Quite  right — very  right;  I  liko 
frankness.  I  consider  him  a  very  fine  young  fellow.  Now 
what  have  you  got  to  say?  Only  I  won't  listen  if  you  are 
going  to  make  a  fuss  about  it,  and  destroy  my  nervous  system, 
for  I  tell  you  it  is  the  simplest  and  most  ordinary  affair  in 
the  world." 

"  Then  you  know  everything — you  approve  of  it,  papa 
—it  is  your  wish  ?  "  she  said,  bravely. 

"  My  wish  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  has  my  wish  to  do  with 
it,  you  stupid  creature !  "  But  then  he  added,  more  gently  : 
"Of  course  you  know  Yolande,  I  should  like  to  see  you  mar- 
ried and  settled.  Yes,  I  should  like  to  see  that;  I  should 
like  to  see  you  in  a  fixed  home,  and  not  liable  to  all  the 
changes  and  chances  of  the  life  that  you  and  I  have  been 
living.  It  would  be  a  great  relief  to  my  mind.  Arid  then 
it  is  natural  and  right.  It  is  not  for  a  young  girl  to  be  a 
rolling  stone  like  that;  and,  besides,  it  couldn't  last :  that 
idea  about  our  always  going  on  travelling  wouldn't  answer. 
So  whenever  you  think  of  marrying,  whenever  you  think 
you  will  be  happy  in  choosing  a  husband — just  now,  to- 
morrow, or  any  time — don't  come  to  me  with  a  breathless 
voice,  and  with  trembling  hands,  as  if  you  had  done  some 
wrong,  or  as  if  I  was  going  to  object,  for  to  see  you  happy 
would  be  happiness  enough  for  me ;  and  as  for  our  society- 
together,  well,  you  know,  I  could  pay  the  people  of  Slag- 
pool  a  little  more  attention,  and  have  some  more  occupa- 
tion that  way ;  and  then  you,  instead  of  having  an  old  and 
frail  and  feeble  person  like  me  to  take  care  of  you,  you 
would  have  one  whose  years  would  make  him  a  fitter  com- 
panion for  you,  as  is  quite  right  and  proper  and  natural. 
And  now  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  think  so,  papa !"  said  she,  quite  brightly  ; 
and  she  regarded  him  with  grateful  and  loving  eyes.  "And 
you  would  have  ever  so  much  more  time  for  Parliament, 
would  you  not?" 

"  Assuredly." 

"  And  you  would  come  to  see  me  sometimes ;  and  go 
shooting  and  fishing ;  and  take  a  real  holiday — not  in  towns 
and  hotels?" 

"  Oh,  don't  be  afraid.  I  will  bother  the  life  out  of  you. 
And  there  are  al\i  ays  fishings  and  shootings  to  be  got  some* 
how," 

"  And  you  would  be  quite  happy  then  ?  " 

"  If   you   were,  I   should  be,"  said  he  ;  and   really  thia 


108  YOLANDE. 

prospect  pleased  him  so  much  that  his  cheerfulness  now 
was  scarcely  forced.  "  Always  on  this  distinct  and  clear 
understand  ing,"  he  added,  '•  that,  when  we  are  coming 
Lack  from  the  shooting,  you  will  come  out  to  meet  us  and 
walk  back  with  us  the  last  half-mile." 

"I  should  be  dressing  for  dinner,  papa,"  she  said,  "  and 
just  worrying  my  head  off  to  think  what  would  please 
you." 

"  You  will  be  dressing  to  please  your  husband,  you 
foolish  creature,  not  me." 

"  He  won't  care  as  much  as  you,  papa."  Then  she 
added,  after  a  second:  "I  should  get  the  London  news- 
papers, yes?  Quite  easily?  Do  you  know,  papa,  what 
Colonel  Graham  believes? — that  they  are  going  to  take  one 
of  the  extreme  Liberals  into  the  Ministry,  to  please  the 
northern  towni," 

"But  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  you,  child?"  said 
he,  with  a  laugh.  "  Very  likely  they  may.  But  you  didn't 
bring  me  over  here  to  talk  politics?  " 

"  But  even  if  you  were  in  the  Government,  papa,  you 
would  have  your  holiday-time  all  the  sane,"  she  said, 
thoughtfully. 

"la  member  of  the  Government !  "  said  he.  "  You 
may  as  well  expect  to  hear  of  me  being  sent  to  arrest  the 
False  Prophet  in  the  Soudan.  Come  away,  then,  Yolande  : 
your  secret  is  not  a  secret ;  so  you  need  not  trouble  about 
it ;  and  now,  that  I  have  expounded  my  views  on  the 
situation,  you  may  as  well  go  and  call  to  Ahmed  that  I 
want  another  cup  of  coffee." 

And  then  he  hesitated. 

"  You  have  not  said  yes  or  no  yet,  Yolande  ?  " 

"Oh  no;  how  could  I,  until  I  knew  what  you  might 
think?"  said  she,  and  she  regarded  him  now  with  frank 
and  unclouded  eyes.  "How  could  I?  It  might  not  have 
been  agreeable  to  your  wishes.  But  I  was  told  that  you 
would  approve.  At  first — well,  it  is  a  sudden  thing  to 
give  up  visions  you  have  formed  :  but  when  you  see  it  is 
not  practicable  and  reasonable,  what  is  it  but  a  small  strug- 
gle? No  ;  other  plans  present  themselves.  Oh  yes.  I  have 
much  to  think  of  now,  that  looks  very  pleasant  to  antici- 
pate. Very  much  to  look  forward  to — to  hope  for." 

He  patted  her  lightly  on  the  shoulder. 

"  And  if  you  make  half  as  good  a  wife,  Yolande,  aa  you 
have  been  a  daughter,  you  will  do  pretty  well." 


YOLANDE.  109 

They  went  back  to  their  friends,  their  absence  scarcely 
having  been  noticed,  for  Ism.it  Effendi  was  a  fluent  and 
interesting  talker.  And  whether  Mr.  Winterbonrne  had 
been  playing  a  part  or  not  in  his  interview  with  Yolande, 
that  cheerfulness  of  his  soon  left  him.  He  sat  somewhat 
apart,  and  silent ;  his  ryes  were  fixed  on  the  deck  ;  he  was 
not  listening.  Yolande  herself  brought  him  the  coffee; 
and  she  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  stood  by  him  ; 
then  he  brightened  up  somewhat.  But  he  was  thoughtful 
and  distraught  for  the  whole  of  the  evening,  except  when 
he  happened  to  be  spoken  to  by  Yolande  and  then  he  would 
summon  up  some  of  his  customary  humor,  and  petulantly 
complain  about  her  un-Englishidioms. 

And  she  ?  Her  anxiety  and  nervousness  seemed  to  have 
vanished.  It  is  true,  she  rather  avoided  the  Master  of 
Lynn,  and  rarely  ventured  to  look  in  his  direction,  but  she 
was  in  good  spirits,  cheerful,  practical,  self-possessed;  and 
when  Isrnat  Effendi,  on  going  away,  apologized  to  her  for 
having  talked  tedious  politics  all  the  evening,  she  said,  with 
a  charming  smile, — 

"No,  not  at  all.  How  can  politics  be  tedious?  Ah! 
but  we  will  have  our  revenge,  perhaps,  in  Scotland.  Mrs. 
Graham  says  that  in  their  house  it  is  nothing  but  deer  that 
is  talked  of  all  the  evening.  That  will  not  interest  you?" 

"  I  shall  rejoice  to  be  allowed  to  try,"  said  the  polite 
young  Egyptian  ;  and  then  he  shook  hands  with  her,  and 
bowed  very  low,  and  left. 

During  the  rest  of  the  evening  the  Master  of  Lynn,  see- 
ing that  Yolande  seemed  no  longer  in  any  trouble,  kept 
near  her,  with  some  vague  hope  that  she  would  herself 
speak,  or  that  he  might  have  some  chance  of  re-opening  the 
subject  that  engrossed  his  mind.  And  indeed,  when 
the  chance  arrived,  and  he  timidly  asked  her  if  she  had  not 
a  word  of  hope  for  him,  she  spoke  very  frankly,  though 
with  some  little  nervousness,  no  doubt.  She  made  a  little 
apology,  in  very  pretty  and  stammering  phrases,  for  not 
having  been  able  to  give  him  an  answer;  but  since  then, 
she  said,  she  had  spoken  to  her  father,  without  whose  aj>- 
proval  she  could  not  have  decided. 

"Then  you  consent,  Yolande;  you  will  be  my  wife  ?" 
he  said,  in  a  low  and  eager  voice,  upsetting  in  his  haste  all 
the  continuity  of  these  hesitating  sentences. 

"  But  is  it  wise  ?  "  said  she,  still  with  her  eyes  cast  down, 
"Perhaps  you  will  regret — " 


110  YOLANDR. 

lie  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  held  it  tight. 

"This  has  been  a  lucky  voyage  for  me,"  said  he  ;  and 
that  was  all  that  he  had  a  chance  of  saying  just  then  ;  but 
it  was  enough. 

Colonel  Graham  heard  the  news  that  same  evening.  He 
was  a  man  of  solid  and  fixed  ideas. 

"  A  very  good  thing  too,"  said  he  to  his  wife.  "  A  very 
good  thing.  Now  they'll  take  the  sheep  off  Allt-nnm-Ba, 
and  make  Corrievreak  the  sanctuary.  Nothing  could  have 
happened  better." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NEW    PLANS. 

NEXT  morning,  and  long  before  any  one  on  board  the 
dahabeeyah  was  awake,  Mr.  Winterbourne  was  seated  in 
the  quiet  little  saloon  writing  the  following  letter: 

"  NEAR  MERHADJH,  ON  THE  NILE,  May  13. 
"  DEAR  SHORTLANDS  : — 

I  have  news  for  you.  You  will  be  glad  to  learn  that 
Yolande  is  engaged  to  be  married — I  think  with  every  pros- 
pect of  happiness ;  and  you  will  also  be  glad  to  know  that 
I  heartily  approve,  and  that  so  far  from  viewing  the  com- 
ing change  with  dread,  I  rather  welcome  it,  and  look  on  it 
as  the  final  removal  of  one  of  the  great  anxieties  of  my  life. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  at  myself,  though.  Yolande  and  I 
have  been  so  much  to  each  other.  And  I  dare  say  I  shall 
feel  her  absence  for  a  while.  But  what  does  it  matter? 
My  life  has  been  broken  and  wasted ;  what  remains  of  it  is 
of  little  consequence  if  her  life  be  made  the  fuller  and  hap- 
pier and  more  secured  ;  and  I  think  there  is  every  chance  of 
that.  After  all,  this  definite  separation  will  be  better  than 
a  series  of  small  separations,  haunted  by  continual  fears. 
She  will  be  removed  from  all  the  possibilities  you  know  of. 
As  for  me,  what  does  it  matter,  as  I  say  ?  And  so  I  have 
come  to  regard  the  handing  over  of  my  Yolande  to  some- 
body else  as  not  such  a  hard  matter  after  all ;  nay,  I  am 
looking  forward  to  it  with  a  kind  of  satisfaction.  When  2 
can  see  her  securely  married  and  happily  settled  in  a  homej 


YOLAVDR.  HI 

that  will  bo  enough  for  me  ;  anil  mnybe  T  may  have  a  chance 
from  time  to  time  of  regarding  the  pride  and  pleasure  of 
the  young  house-mistress. 

"The  accepted  suitor  is  Mrs.  Graham's  brother  (I  think 
you  know  we  came  away  with  Colonel  Graham,  of  Inver- 
stroy,  and  his  wife),  and  the  only  son  of  Lord  Lynn.  I 
have  had  a  good  opportunity  of  studying  his  character;  and 
you  may  imagine  that,  when  I  saw  a  prospect  of  this  hap- 
pening, I  regarded  him  very  closely  and  jealously.  Well, 
I  must  say  that  his  qualities  bore  the  scrutiny  well.  I  think 
he  is  an  honest  and  honorable  young  fellow,  of  fair  abilities, 
very  pleasant  and  courteous  in  manner  (what  I  especially 
like  in  him  is  the  consideration  and  respect  he  pays  to 
women,  which  seems  to  be  unusual  nowadays;  he  doesn't 
stand  and  stare  at  them  with  a  toothpick  in  his  mouth) ;  I 
hear  he  is  one  af  the  best  deer-stalkers  in  the  Highlands, 
and  that  speaks  well  for  his  hardihood  and  his  temperance  ; 
he  is  not  brilliant,  but  he  is  good-natured,  which  is  of  more 
importance  in  the  long  run  ;  he  is  cheerful  and  high-spirited, 
which  naturally  follows  from  his  excellent  constitution — • 
deer-stalking  does  not  tend  to  congestion  of  the  liver  and 
bilious  headache  :  he  is  good-looking,  but  not  vain ;  and 
he  is  scrupulously  exact  in  money  matters.  Indeed,  he  is 
almost  too  exact,  if  criticism  were  to  be  so  minute,  for  it 
looks  just  a  little  bit  odd,  when  we  are  playing  cards  for 
counters  at  threepence  a  dozen,  to  see  the  heir  of  the  house 
of  Lynn  so  very  particular  in  claiming  his  due  of  twopence- 
halfpenny.  But  this  little  weakness  is  forgivable :  to  be 
prudent  and  economical  is  a  very  good  failing  in  a  young 
man ;  and  then  you  must  remember  his  training.  The 
Leslies  have  been  poor  for  several  generations ;  but  they 
have  steadily  applied  themselves  to  the  retrieving  of  their 
condition  and  the  bettering  of  the  estate,  and  it  is  only  by 
the  exercise  of  severe  economy  that  they  now  stand  in  so 
good  a  position.  So,  doubtless,  this  young  fellow  has  ac- 
quired the  habit  of  being  particular  about  trifles,  and  I 
don't  object ;  from  my  point  of  view  it  is  rather  praise- 
worthy ;  Yolande's  fortune — and  she  shall  have  the  bulk  of 
what  I  have — will  be  placed  in  good  and  careful  hands. 

44  So  now  all  this  is  well  and  happily  settled,  and  as 
every  one  bids  fair  to  be  content,  you  will  ask  what  more 
we  have  to  do  than  to  look  forward  to  the  wedding,  and 
the  slippers,  and  the  handfuls  of  rice.  Well,  it  is  the  old 
story,  and  you  as  an  old  friend,  will  understand.  That  is 


112  YOLANDE. 

why  I  write  to  you,  after  a  wakeful  enough  night — for  the 
sake  of  unburdening  myself,  even  though  I  can't  get  a  word 
of  your  sturdy  counsel  at  this  great  distance.  As  I  say,  it 
is  the  old  story.  For  the  moment  you  delude  yourself  into 
the  belief  that  the  time  of  peril  and  anxiety  is  past;  every- 
thing is  safe  now  for  the  future;  with  Yolande's  life  made 
secure  and  happy,  what  matters  what  happens  elsewhere? 
And  the  next  moment  new  anxieties  present  themselves; 
the  old  dread  returns ;  doubts  whether  you  have  acted  for 
the  best,  and  fears  about  this  future  that  seemed  so  bright. 
There  is  one  point  about  these  Leslies  that  I  forgot  to  men- 
tion :  they  are  all  of  them  apparently — and  young  Leslie 
especially — very  proud  of  the  family  name,  and  jealous  of 
the  family  honor.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  They  have  every 
right  to  be,  and  it  is  rather  a  praiseworthy  quality.  But  now 
you  will  understand,  old  friend,  the  perplexity  I  am  in — • 
afraid  to  make  any  revelation  that  might  disturb  the  settle- 
ment which  seems  so  fortunate  a  one,  and  yet  afraid  to 
transfer  to  the  future  all  those  risks  and  anxieties  that 
have  made  the  past  so  bitter  and  so  terrible  to  me.  I  do 
not  know  what  to  do.  Perhaps  I  should  have  stated  the 
whole  matter  plainly  to  the  young  man  when  he  came  and 
asked  permission  to  propose  to  Yolande;  but  then  I  was 
thinking,  not  of  that  at  all,  but  only  of  her  happiness.  It 
seemed  so  easy  and  safe  a  way  out  of  all  that  old  trouble. 
And  why  should  he  have  been  burdened  with  a  secret  which 
he  dared  not  reveal  toiler?  I  thought  of  Yolande  being 
taken  away  to  that  Highland  home,  living  content  and  haj>- 
py  all  through  her  life,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  imperil 
that  prospect  by  any  disclosure  of  what  could  concern 
neither  her  nor  him.  But  now  I  have  begun  to  torture  my- 
self in  the  old  way  again,  and  in  spite  of  myself  conjure  up 
all  sorts  of  ghastly  anticipations.  The  fit  does  not  last  long ; 
if  you  were  here,  with  your  firm  way  of  looking  at  things, 
possibly  I  could  drive  away  these  imaginings  altogether; 
but  you  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that  I  could  wish  to 
see  Yolande  married  to-morrow,  and  carried  away  to  the 
Highlands.  Then  I  could  meet  my  own  troubles  well 
enough." 

He  was  startled  by  the  rustling  of  a  dress  ;  he  looked  up, 
and  there  was  Yolande  herself,  regarding  him  with  a  bright 
and  happy  and  smiling  face,  in  which  there  was  a  tritie  of 
surprise,  and  also  perhaps  a  faint  flush  of  self-consciousness  ; 
for  it  was  but  the  previous  evening  that  she  had  told  him  of 


YOLANDE.  113 

the  engagement.  But  surely  one  glance  of  that  face,  so 
young  and  cheerful  and  confident,  was  enough  to  dispel 
those  dark  forebodings.  The  page  of  life  lying  open  there 
was  not  the  one  on  which  to  write  down  prognostications 
of  trouble  and  sorrow.  His  eyes  lit  up  with  pleasure  ;  the 
glooms  of  the  night  were  suddenly  forgotten. 

"  Writing?  Already  ?  "  she  said,  as  she  went  forward  and 
kissed  him. 

"You  are  looking  very  well  this  morning,  Yolande,"  he 
said,  regarding  her.  "  The  silence  of  the  boat  does  not  keep 
you  from  sleeping,  apparently,  as  it  sometimes  docs  with 
older  folk.  But  where  is  your  snood? — the  color  suits  your 
hair," 

"Oh,  I  am  not  in  the  Highlands  yet, "  she  said,  lightly. 
"  Do  you  know  the  song  Mrs.  Graham  sings? — 

*  It's  I  would  give  my  silken  snood 
To  see  the  gallant  Grahams  come  haine,' 

that  was  in  the  days  of  their  banishment." 

"  But  what  have  you  to  do  with  the  home-coming  of  the 
Grahams,  Yolande?"  her  father  said,  to  tease  her.  "You 
will  be  a  Leslie,  not  a  Graham." 

She  changed  the  topic  quickly. 

"To  whom  are  you  writing?" 

"  To  John  Shortlands." 

"May  I  see?" 

She  would  have  taken  up  the  letter  had  he  not  hastily 
interposed. 

"No." 

"Ah!  it  is  about  business.  Very  well.  But  may  I  put 
in  a  postscript  ?" 

"  What  do  you  want  to  write-to  Mr.  Shortlands  about  ?  " 
her  father  said,  in  amazement. 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  write,  then.  I  was 
going  to  ask  him  to  visit  us  at  Allt-nam-Ba." 

"  Well,  now,  Yolande,  that  is  a  most  excellent  idea ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "You  are  really  becoming  quite  a  sensible  and 
practical  person.  We  shall  want  another  gun.  John  Short- 
lands  is  just  the  man." 

"We  can  give  him,  "  said  she,  sedately,  '<  the  bedroom 
over  the  dining-room  ;  that  will  be  furthest  away  from  the 
noise  of  the  kennels." 

Then  he  stared  at  her. 


114  YOLANDE. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  know  about  the  bedroom  over 
the  dining-room,  or  the  kennels  either?" 

"  Mr.  Leslie,"  said  she,  with  a  momentary  flush,  "  gave 
me  a  plan  of  the  house — there  it  is,  papa.  Oh,  you  shall 
have  no  trouble ;  it  is  all  quite  easily  arranged 

She  took  out  a  piece  of  paper  from  her  note-book,  un- 
folded it,  and  put  it  before  him. 

"  There,"  said  she,  with  a  practical  air,  "  is  a  very  good 
room,  that  looks  down  the  glen — that  is  for  you.  That  one 
is  for  a  visitor — yes,  Mr.  Shortlands,  if  he  will  come — so 
that  he  shall  not  be  disturbed  by  the  dogs.  That  one  for 
me— " 

"But  why  should  you  be  disturbed  by  the  dogs?" 

"Me?  Oh,  no!  I  shall  be  used  to  it.  Besides,"  she 
said,  with  a  laugh,  "there  is  nothing  that  will  disturb  me — 
no,  not  the  cockatoo  at  the  Chateau  that  Madame  did  not 
keep  more  than  three  days." 

"  But  look  here,  Yolande,"  said  he,  gravely,  <*  I  am  afraid 
you  are  going  to  attempt  too  much.  Why  should  you? 
Why  should  you  bother  ?  I  can  pay  to  get  somebody  to  do  all 
that.  It's  all  very  well  for  Mrs.  Graham,  who  has  all  her  ser- 
vants about  her,  trained  to  help  her.  And  she  has  been  at  the 
thing  for  years.  But  really,  Yolande,  you  are  taking  too 
great  a  responsibility.  And  why  should  you  worry  your- 
self when  I  can  pay  to  get  it  done  ?  I  dare  say  there  are 
people  who  will  provision  a  house  as  you  provision  a  yacht, 
and  take  back  the  surplus  stores.  I  don't  know  ;  I  suppose 
BO.  In  any  case  I  hire  a  housekeeper  up  there — " 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  mouth. 

"No,  no,  no,"  she  said,  triumphantly.  "Why,  it  is  all 
arranged,  long  ago — all  settled — every  small  point.  Do  I 
not  know  what  cartridges  to  buy  for  you,  for  the  rifle  that 
Mr.  Leslie  is  to  lend  you — do  I  not  know  even  that  small 
point  ?  " 

She  referred  to  her  note-book. 

"  There  it  is,''  she  said.  "  Eley-Boxer,  500  bore,  for  ex- 
press rifle — " 

"Well,  you  know,  Yolande,"  said  he,  to  test  her,  "  I 
should  have  thought  that  when  the  Master  proposed  to  lend 
me  a  rifle,  he  might  have  presented  me  with  some  cart- 
ridges, instead  of  letting  me  buy  them  for  myself." 

But  she  did  not  see  the  point. 

'*  Perhaps  he  did  not  remember,"  said  she,  lightly. 
u  Perhaps  it  is  not  customary.  No  matter ;  I  shall  have 


YOLANDE.  115 

them.  It  is  very  obliging  that  you  get  the  loan  of  the  rifle. 
Qtiand  on  emprunte,  on  ne  choisit  pas."" 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  go  away,  and  let  me  finish  my  let- 
ter," said  he,  good-naturedly. 

When  she  had  gone  he"  turned  the  sheet  of  paper  that 
he  had  placed  face  downward,  and  continued  : — 

"  When  I  had  written  the  above  Yolande  came  into  the 
saloon.  She  has  just  gone,  and  everything  is  changed.  It 
is  impossible  to  look  at  her — so  full  of  hope  and  life  and 
cheerfulness — and  be  downcast  about  the  future.  It  ap- 
pears to  me  now  that  whatever  trouble  may  befal  will  af- 
fect me  only,  and  that  that  does  not  much  matter,  and  that 
she  will  be  living  a  happy  life  far  away  there  in  the  north 
without  a  care.  Is  it  not  quite  simple  ?  She  will  no  longer 
bear  my  name.  Even  if  she  were  to  come  to  London — 
though  it  is  far  from  probable  they  will  ever  have  a  London 
house,  even  for  the  season — she  will  come  either  as  the 
Hon.  Mrs.  Leslie,  or  as  Lady  Lynn  ;  and  nothing  could  oc- 
cur to  alarm  her  or  annoy  her  husband.  Everything  ap- 
pears to  have  happened  for  the  best,  and  I  don't  see  how 
any  contretemps  could  arise.  When  we  return  to  England 
the  proposal  is  that  Yolande  should  go  on  with  the  Grahams 
to  Inverstroy,  until  I  go  down  to  a  shooting  that  I  have 
rented  for  the  season  from  Lord  Lynn — Allt-nam-Ba  is  the 
name  of  the  place — and  there  we  should  be  for  the  follow- 
ing three  months.  I  don't  know  how  long  the  engage- 
ment of  the  young  people  is  likely  to  last;  but  I  should  say 
they  knew  each  other  pretty  well  after  being  constantly  in 
each  other's  society  all  this  time  ;  and  I,  of  course,  could 
wish  for  nothing  better  than  a  speedy  marriage.  Nor  will 
there  be  any  risk  about  that.  Whether  it  takes  place  in 
the  Highlands,  or  at  Weybridge,  or  anywhere  else,  there 
need  be  no  great  ceremony  or  publicity ;  and  I  would 
gladly  pay  for  a  special  license,  which  I  could  fairly  do  on 
the  plea  that  it  was  merely  a  whim  of  my  own. 

"  Now  as  for  yourself,  dear  old  boy.  Would  you  be 
surprised  to  hear  that  Yolande  has  just  suggested — entirely 
her  own  suggestion,  mind — that  you  should  come  and  pay 
us  a  visit  at  that  shooting-box?  She  has  even  decided  that 
you  are  to  have  the  bedroom  farthest  removed  from  the 
noise  of  the  kennels.  I  do  hope  you  will  be  able  to  go 
down  with  me  for  the  Twelfth.  With  decent  shooting,  and 
if  the  moor  is  in  its  normal  state,  they  say  we  should  get 
1000  or  1200  brace ;  and,  besides  that,  tire  moor  abuts  on 


116  YOLANDE. 

three  deer  forests,  and  there  is  no  reason,  moral  or  legal, 
why  you  shouldn't  have  a  shot  at  such/mE  naturae  as  may 
stray  on  to  your  ground.  And  then  (which  is,  perhaps,  a 
more  important  thing — at  all  events,  you  would  be  inter- 
ested, for  I  think  you  rather  like  the  child)  you  would  see 
what  kind  of  a  choice  Yolande  has  made.  I  hope  I  am  not 
blinded  by  my  own  wishes;  but  it  seems  as  if  everything 
promised  well. 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  want  to  mention  to  you  be- 
fore I  close  this  screed — which  more  resembles  the  letters 
of  our  youth  than  the  staccato  notes  they  call  letters  nowa- 
days. I  have  talked  to  you  about  this  engagement  as  if  it 
were  a  good  arrangement — a  solution,  in  fact,  of  a  very 
awkward  problem  ;  but  don't  think  for  a  moment  that, 
when  they  do  marry,  it  will  be  anything  but  a  marriage  of 
affection.  Mr.  Leslie  is  not  so  poor  that  he  need  to  marry 
for  money;  on  the  contrary,  the  family  are  fairly  well  off 
now,  and  the  estates  almost  free ;  and  Yolande,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  not  the  sort  of  creature  to  marry  for  title  or  social 
position.  I  saw  that  he  was  drawing  toward  her  a  long 
time  ago — as  far  back,  indeed,  as  the  time  of  our  arriving 
at  Malta;  and  as  for  her,  she  made  a  friend  and  companion 
of  him  almost  at  the. beginning  of  the  voyage  in  a  way  very 
unusual  with  her;  for  I  have  noticed  again  and  again,  in 
travelling,  how  extremely  reserved  she  was  when  any  one 
seemed  anxious  to  make  her  acquaintance.  No  doubt  the 
fact  that  he  was  Mrs.  Graham's  brother  had  something  to 
do  with  it ;  for  the  Grahams  were  very  kind  to  her  at  Oat- 
lands,  and  have  been  ever  since,  I  need  hardly  say.  It  will 
be  very  pleasant  to  her  to  have  such  agreeable  neighbors 
when  she  marries.  Mrs.  Graham  treats  her  like  a  sister 
already.  She  will  not  be  going  among  strange  kinsfolk,  nor 
among  those  likely  to  judge  her  harshly. 

"  So  far  we  have  enjoyed  the  trip  very  well,  though,  ot 
course,  to  some  of  us  its  chief  interest  lay  in  this"little 
drama  that  now  points,  I  hope,  to  a  happy  conclusion.  We 
have  had  the  whole  Nile  to  ourselves — all  the  tourists  gone 
long  ago.  The  heat  considerable  :  yesterday  at  midday  it 
was  108  degrees  in  the  shade  ;  but  it  is  a  dry  heat,  and  not 
bebilitating.  Of  course  we  keep  under  shelter  on  the 
hottest  days.  I  hear  that  the  wine  at  dinner  is  of  a  tem- 
perature of  90  degrees,  there  being  no  ice  ;  so  that  we 
abstainers  have  rather  the  best  of  it,  the  water,  kept  in 
porous  jars,  being  much  cooler  than  that.  We  visit 


YO LANDS.  117 

Merhadj  to-day,  and  thereafter  begin  a  series  of  excursions 
in  the  neighborhood — if  all  goes  well.  But  we  heard  some 
ugly  rumors  in  Cairo,  and  may  at  any  moment  have  to  beat 
a  swift  retreat. 

'*  As  soon  as  I  get  back  I  shall  begin  my  Parliamentary 
attendance  again,  and  stick  close  to  work  until  the  end  of 
the  session,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  Government  will  give 
me  plenty  of  chances  of  reminding  the  Slagpool  people  of 
my  existence.  I  wish  you  would  have  a  paragraph  put  in 
one  of  the  London  papers  to  the  effect  that  the  health  of 
the  member  for  Slagpool  being  now  almost  re-established 
by  his  visit  to  Egypt,  he  will  in  a  few  weeks  be  able  to  take 
his  place  again  in  the  House.  Then  the  Slagpool  papers 
would  copy.  They  have  been  very  forbearing  with  me, 
those  people  ;  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  bully  them.  They 
would  have  turned  out  any  more  complaisant  person  long 
ago. 

"  Yolande — still  harping  on  his  daughter,  you  will  say  ; 
but  it  is  only  for  a  little  while  :  soon  I  shall  see  and  hear 
little  enough  of  her — has  undertaken  the  whole  control  and 
household  management  of  the  shooting-box,  and  I  dare  say 
she  will  make  a  hash  of  it  ;  but  I  don't  think  you  will  be 
severe  on  her,  if,  as  I  hope,  you  can  come  to  us.  It  will  be 
an  occupation  and  amusement  for  her  while  she  is  in  the 
Highlands  ;  and  I  am  very  glad  she  is  going  to  be  with  the 
Grahams  during  that  interval.  She  wearied  a  good  deal 
at  Oatlands  Park,  though  she  tried  not  to  show  it  ;  and  as 
for  ever  having  her  in  London  again — no,  that  is  impossible. 
Mrs.  Leslie  or  Lady  Lynn  may  come  and  live  in  London 
when  she  pleases — though  I  hope  it  may  be  many  a  year 
before  she  does  so — but  not  Yolande  Winterbourne.  Poor 
child,  she  little  knows  what  kind  of  a  shadow  there  is  behind 
her  fair  and  bright  young  life.  I  hope  she  will  never  know ; 
I  am  beginning  to  believe  now  that  she  will  never  know  ; 
and  this  that  has  just  happened  ought  to  give  one  courage 
and  strength. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  answer  this  letter.  The  writing  of 
it  has  been  a  relief  to  me.  I  may  be  back  in  town  very 
shortly  after  you  get  it  ;  for  we  shall  only  stay  in  Cairo  a 
few  days  to  get  some  things  for  Yolande  that  may  be  of 
service  to  her  after. 

Always  your  friend, 

"  G.  K.  WlNTEKBOUBNE. 

ttP.S. — I  should  not  wonder  at  all  if,  before  this  letter 


1 1 8  YOLANDE. 

gets  posted  even,  that  torment  of  fear  and  nervous  appre- 
hension should  again  get  possession  of  me.  I  wish  the 
marriage  were  well  over,  and  I  left  alone  in  London." 

The  various  noises  throughout  the  dahabeeyah  now  told 
him  that  all  the  people  were  stirring  ;  he  carefully  folded 
this  letter  and  put  it  in  his  pocket  (that  he  might  read  it 
over  again  at  his  leisure),  and  then  he  went  out  and  -ip  the 
stairs  to  the  higher  deck.  Yolande  was  leaning  with  her 
elbows  on  the  rail,  gazing  out  on  the  wide  waters  and  the 
far  wastes  of  sand.  She  did  not  hear  him  approach  ;  slit* 
was  carelessly  singing  to  herself  some  snatch  of  a  French 
song,  mid  doubtless  not  thinking  at  all  how  inappropriate 
the  words  were  : 

"  Ohe! .  . .  c'est  la  terre  de  France 
Obe! .  .  .  Garcons!  bonne  esperance! 
Vois-tu,  la-bas,  sous  le  ciel  gris 
A  1'horizon  ?  . .  .  C'est  le  pays! 

Madelon,  Ferine 

Toinon,  Catherine — " 

"  Yolande,"  said  he  ;  and  she  started  and  turned  round 
quickly. 

"  Why,  you  don't  seem  to  consider  that  you  have  taken 
&  very  serious  step  in  life,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"Moi?" 

Then  she  recalled  herself  to  her  proper  tongue. 

"I  think  it  pleases  every  one  ;  do  you  not?"  she  said, 
brightly  ;  and  there  were  no  more  forebodings  possible 
when  he  found  himself,  as  now,  face  to  face  with  the  shining 
cheerfulness  of  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OBEDIENCE. 


YOLANDE  was  right  on  that  one  point,  at  least :  every 
one  seemed  greatly  pleased.  There  was  a  new  and  obvious 
satisfaction  permeating  all  through  this  little  party  in  exile. 
Mrs.  Graham  was  more  affectionate  than  ever — it  was  "  dear 
Yolande  "  every  other  minute  ;  Colonel  Graham  was  as- 


YOLANDE.  nil 

eiduous  \n  giving  her  perfectly  idiotic  advice  about  hei 
housekeeping  at  Allt-nam-Ba  ;  and  the  Master  of  Lynn 
sought,  but  sought  in  vain,  for  opportunities  of  having  little 
confidential  talks  with  her.  And  the  most  light-hearted  of 
them  all  was  Yolande  herself.  Her  decision  once  given 
she  seemed  to  trouble  herself  no  more  about  the  future. 
Every  one  was  pleaded  ;  so  was  she.  She  betrayed  no  con- 
cern  ;  she  was  not  en.barrasscd  by  that  increase  of  attention 
and  kindness  which,  however  slight,  was  easily  recognizable 
and  significant.  To  all  appearance  she  was  occupied,  not 
in  the  least  with  her  futui  2  duties  as  a  wife,  but  solely  and 
delightedly  with  preparations  for  the  approaching  visit  to 
Merhadj ;  and  she  was  right  thankful  that  they  were  going 
by  water,  for  on  two  occasions  they  had  found  the  sand  of 
the  river-bank  to  be  of  a  temperature  of  140°  in  the  sun, 
which  was  not  very  pleasant  for  women-folk  wearing  thin- 
soled  boots. 

When  they  had  got  into  the  stern  of  the  big  boat,  and 
were  being  rowed  up  the  wide,  yellow-green  river,  her  father 
could  not  help  regarding  this  gayety  of  demeanor  with  an 
increasing  wonder,  and  even  with  a  touch  of  apprehensive 
doubt.  And  then  again  he  argued  with  himself.  Why 
should  she  anticipate  the  gravities  of  life  ?  Why  should 
she  not  be  careless  and  light-hearted,  and  happy  in  the 
small  excitement  of  the  moment  ?  Would  it  not  IKJ  time 
to  face  the  evil  days,  if  there  were  to  be  any  such,  when 
they  came?  And  why  should  they  come  at  all?  Surely 
some  lives  were  destined  for  peace.  Why  should  not  the 
story  of  her  life  be  like  the  scene  now  around  them — placid, 
beautiful,  and  calm,  with  unclouded  skies  ?  To  some  that 
was  given,  and  Yolande  (he  gradually  convinced  himself) 
would  be  one  of  those.  To  look  at  her  face — so  full  of  life 
and  pleasure  and  bright  cheerfulness — was  to  acquire  hope; 
it  was  not  possible  to  associate  misery  or  despair  with  those 
clear-shining,  confident  eyes.  Her  life  (he  returned  to  the 
fancy)  was  to  be  like  the  scenery  in  which  the  courtship  and 
engagement  passage  of  it  had  chanced  to  occur — pretty, 
placid,  unclouded,  not  too  romantic.  And  so  by  the  time 
they  reached  Merhadj  he  had  grown  to  be,  or  had  forced 
himself  to  appear,  as  cheerful  as  any  of  them.  He  knew  he 
was  nervous,  fretful,  and  liable  to  gloomy  anticipations  ; 
but  he  also  had  a  certain  power  of  fighting  against  these, 
and  that  he  could  do  best  when  Yolande  was  actually  beside 
him.  And  was  she  not  there  now — merry  and  laughing 


120  YOLANDE. 

and  delighted  ;  eagerly  interested  in  these  new  scenes,  "and 
trying  to  talk  to  every  one  at  once  ?  He  began  to  share  ID 
her  excitement  ;  he  forgot  about  those  vague  horoscopes 
it  was  the  crowd  of  boats,  and  the  children  swimming  in 
the  Nile,  and  the  women  coming  down  with  pitchers  on 
their  heads,  and  all  the  other  busy  and  picturesque  features 
along  the  shore  that  he  was  looking  at,  because  sho  also  was 
looking  at  them  ;  and  it  was  no  visionary  Yolande  of  the 
future,  but  the  very  sensible  and  practical  and  light-hearted 
Yol.ind  of  that  very  moment,  that  he  had  to  grip  by  the 
arm  with  an  angry  remonstrance  about  her  attempting  to 
walk  down  the  gangboard  by  herself,  she  only  laughed  ;  she 
never  believed  much  in  her  father's  anger. 

They  got  ashore  to  find  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a 
frightful  tumult  and  confusion — at  least  so  it  appeared  to 
them  after  the  silence  and  seclusion  of  the  dahabeeyah. 
Donkeys  were  being  driven  down  to  the  river,  raising  clouds 
of  dust  as  they  came  trotting  along ;  the  banks  swarmed 
with  mules  and  camels  and  water-carriers,  the  women  were 
filling  their  pitchers,  the  boys  their  pigskin  vessels ;  the 
children  were  diving  and  splashing  and  calling;  and 
altogether  the  bustle  and  clamor  seemed  different  enough 
from  the  ordinary  repose  of  Eastern  life,  and  were  even  a 
trifle  bewildering.  But  in  the  midst  of  it  all  appeared 
young  Ismat  Effendi,  who  came  hurrying  down  the  bank  to 
offer  a  hundred  eager  apologies  for  his  not  having  been  in 
time  to  receive  them ;  and  under  his  guidance  they  got 
away  from  the  noise  and  squalor,  and  proceeded  to  cross  a 
large  open  square,  planted  with  a  few  acacia-trees,  to  the 
Governor's  house  just  outside  the  town.  The  young  Ismat 
was  delighted  to  be  the  escort  of  those  two  English  ladies. 
He  talked  very  fast;  his  eyes  were  eloquent;  and  his 
smiling  face  showed  how  proud  and  pleased  he  was.  And 
would  they  go  through  the  town  with  him  after  they  had 
done  his  father  the  honor  of  a  visit? 

"  The  bazars  are  not  like  Cairo,"  said  he.  "  No^  no  ; 
who  could  expect  that  ?  We  are  a  small  town,  but  we  are 
more  Egyptian  than  Cairo ;  we  are  not  half  foreign,  like 
Cairo/'  " 

"I  am  sure  it  will  be  all  the  more  interesting  on  that 
account,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  graciously ;  and  Yolande  was 
pU-ased  to  express  the  same  opinion ;  and  young  Ismat 
Effendi's  face  seemed  to  say  that  a  great  honor  liad  been 
conferred  on  him  and  on  Merhadj. 


YOLANDE.  121 

And  indeed  they  were  sufficiently  interested  in  wli.it 
they  could  already  see  of  the  place — this  wide  sandy  square, 
with  its  acacias  in  tubs,  its  strings  of  donkeys  and  camels, 
its  veiled  women  and  dusky  men  ;  with  the  high  hare  walls 
of  a  mosque,  the  tapering  minaret,  some  lower  walls  of 
houses,  and  everywhere  a  profusion  of  palms  that  hounded 
the  further  side. 

"  Hillo,  Mr.  Ismat !  "  called  out  Colonel  Graham,  as  two 
gangs  of  villanous-looking  convicts,  all  chained  to  each 
other,  came  along  under  guard  of  a  couple  of  soldiers. 
"  What  have  these  fellows  been  doing?  " 

"  They  are  prisoners,"  said  he,  carelessly.  "  They  have 
killed  somebody  or  stolen  something.  We  make  them  carry 
water." 

The  next  new  feature  was  a  company  of  soldiers,  in 
A'hite  tunics  and  trousers  and  red  tarbooshes,  who  marched 
quickly  along  to  the  shrill  sharp  music  of  bugles.  They 
disappeared  into  the  archway  of  a  large  square  building. 

"That  is  my  father's  house,"  explained  young  Ismat  to 
the  ladies.  "  He  looks  to  your  visit  with  great  pleasure. 
And  the  other  gentlemen  of  the  town,  they  are  there  also, 
and  the  chief  engineer  of  the  district.  Your  coming  is  a 
great  honor  to  us." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  a  little  Arabic,"  said  Mrs.  Graham.  "  I 
am  sure  we  have  not  thanked  his  Excellency  half  enough 
for  his  kindness  in  lending  us  his  dahabeeyah." 

"Oh,  quite  enough,  quite  enough,"  said  the  polite  young 
Egyptian.  "  I  assure  you  it  is  nothing.  Though  it  is  a 
pity  my  father  does  not  understand  English,  and  not  much 
French  either.  He  has  been  very  busy  all  his  life,  and  not 
travelling.  The  other  gentlemen  speak  French,  like  most 
of  the  official  Egyptians." 

"  And  you,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  regarding  him  with  her 
pretty  eyes,  "  do  you  speak  French  as  well  as  you  speak 
English?" 

"  My  English  ! "  he  said,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.  "  It  is  very  bad.  I  know  it  is  very,  very  bad. 
I  have  never  been  in  England;  I  have  had  no  practice 
except  a  little  in  India.  But,  on  the  contrary,  I  have  lived 
three  years  in  Paris  ;  French  is  much  more  natural  to  me 
than  English." 

"  It  is  so  with  me  also,  Mr.  Ismat,"  said  Yolande,  a  trifle 
shyly. 

'•  With  you  !  "  he  exclaimed. 


122  YOLANDE. 

"  I  have  lived  nearly  all  my  life  in  France.  But  your 
English,  that  you  spoke  of  is  not  in  the  least  bad.  It  is 
very  good — is  it  not  Mrs.  Graham  ?  " 

Nothing  further  could  be  said  on  that  point,  however 
for  they  were  just  escaping  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  into 
a  cool  high  archway  ;  and  from  that  they  passed  into  a 
wide,  open  courtyard,  where  the  guard  of  soldiers  they  had 
seen  enter  presented  arms.  Then  they  ascended  some 
steps,  and  finally  were  ushered  into  a  large  and  lofty  and 
barely  furnished  saloon,  where  the  Governor  and  the  notables 
of  Merhadj  received  them  with  much  serious  courtesy. 
But  this  interview,  as  it  turned  out,  was  not  quite  so  solemn 
as  that  on  the  deck  of  the  dahabeeyah  ;  for,  after  what 
Ismat  Effendi  had  said  to  the  two  ladies  without,  it  was  but 
natural  that  the  conversation  should  be  conducted  in  French; 
and  so  the  coffee  and  cigarettes  which  were  brought  in  by 
two  young  lads  were  partaken  of  in  anything  but  silence. 
And  then,  as  little  groups  were  thus  formed,  and  as  Ismat's 
services  as  interpreter  were  not  in  such  constant  demand, 
he  somehow  came  to  devote  himself  to  the  two  ladies,  and  as 
Yolande  naturally  spoke  French  with  much  more  ease  and 
fluency  than  Mrs.  Graham,  to  her  he  chiefly  addressed  him- 
self. The  Master  of  Lynn  did  not  at  all  like  this  arrange- 
ment. He  was  silent  and  impatient.  He  regarded  this 
Frenchified  Arab,  who  seemed  to  consider  himself  so  fasci- 
nating, with  a  goodly  measure  of  robust  English  contempt. 
And  then  he  grew  angry  with  his  sister.  She  ought  not  to 
be,  and  she  ought  not  to  permit  Yolande  to  be,  so  familiar 
with  this  Egyptian  fellow.  Did  she  not  know  that  Egyptian 
ladies  studiously  kept  their  faces  concealed  r*  And  what 
must  he  be  thinking  of  these  two  English  ladies,  who 
laughed  and  chattered  in  this  free  and  easy  fashion  ? 

Then,  as  regarded  Yolande,  his  gratitude  for  the  great 
gift  she  had  given  him  was  still  full  in  his  mind,  and  he  was 
willing  to  make  every  excuse  for  her,  and  to  treat  her  with 
a  manly  forbearance  arid  leniency  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he 
could  not  get  rid  of  a  certain  consciousness  that  she  did  not 
Beern  to  recognize  as  she  ought  that  he  had  in  a  way,  a  right 
of  possession.  She  bore  herself  to  him  just  as  she  bore 
herself  to  the  others;  if  there  was  any  one  of  the  party 
whom  she  seemed  specially  to  favor  that  morning  as  they 
came  up  the  Nile,  it  was  Colonel  Graham,  who  did  nothing 
but  tease  her.  She  did  not  seem  to  think  there  was  any 
difference  between  yesterday  and  to-day,  whereas  yestenlav 


YOLAXDK.  \-l\\ 

she  was  five,  and  to  day  she  was  a  promised  bride.  How- 
ever, lie  threw  most  of  the  blame  on  his  sister.  Polly  was 
always  trying  the  effect  of  her  eyes  on  somebody,  and  this 
Egyptian  was  as  good  as  another.  And  lie  wondered  bow 
Graham  allowed  it. 

But  matters  grew  worse  when  this  ceremonious  interview 
was  over.  For  when  they  went  to  explore  the  narrow, 
twisting,  mud-paved,  and  apparently  endless  bazars  of  Mor- 
hadj,  where  there  was  scarcely  room  for  the  camels  and 
donkeys,  to  pass  without  bumping  them  against  the  walls  or 
shop  doors,  of  course  they  had  to  go  two  and  two  ;  and  as 
young  Ismat  had  to  lead  the  way,  and  as  he  naturally  con- 
tinued to  talk  to  the  person  with  whom  he  had  been  talking 
within  it  fell  out  that  Yoland  and  he  were  the  first  pair,  the 
others  following  as  they  pleased.  Once  or  twice  the  Master 
straggled  forward  through  the  crowd  and  the  dust  and  the 
donkeys,  and  tried  to  detach  Yolande  from  her  companion  ; 
but  in  each  case  some  circumstance  happened  to  intervene, 
and  he  failed  ;  and  the  consequence  was  that,  bringing  up 
the  rear  with  Mr.  Winterbourne,  who  was  not  a  talkative 
person,  he  had  abundant  leisure  to  nurse  his  wrath  in  silence. 
And  he  felt  he  had  a  right  to  be  angry,  though  it  was  not 
perhaps  altogether  her  faith.  She  did  not  seem  to  under- 
stand that  there  were  relations  existing  between  engaged 
people  different  from  those  existing  between  others.  lie 
had  acquired  a  certain  right :  so,  in  fact,  had  she ;  for  he 
put  it  to  himself  whether,  supposing  he  had  had  the  chance 
of  walking  through  those  miserable  little  streets  of  Merhadj 
with  the  prettiest  young  Englishwoman  who  ever  lived,  he 
would  have  deserted  Yolande  for  her  side.  No,  he  would 
not.  And  he  thought  that  he  ought  to  remonstrate ;  and 
that  he  would  remonstrate ;  but  yet  in  a  kindly  way,  so  that 
no  offence  could  be  taken,  It  would  be  no  offence,  surely, 
Lo  beg  from  her  just  a  little  bit  more  of  her  favor. 

Meanwhile,  this  was  the  conversation  of  those  two  in 
Front,  as  they  slowly  made  their  way  along  the  tortuous, 
catacomb  looking  throughfare,  with  its  dusky  little  shops, 
in  the  darkness  of  each  of  which  sat  the  merchant,  cross- 
legged,  and  gazing  impassively  out  from  under  his  large 
white  turban. 

"  What  is  it,  then,  you  wish?"  he  was  saying  to  her; 
ind  he  spoke  in  French  that  was  much  more  idiomatic,  if 
not  any  more  fluent,  than  his  English.  "  Curiosities  ?  Bric- 
*-brac  ?  " 


124  YOLANDE, 

"  It  is  something  very  Eastern,  very  Egyptian,  that  I  could 
send  to  the  ladies  at  the  Chateau  where  I  was  brought  up," 
she  said,  as  she  attentively  scanned  each  gloomy  recess. 
"  And  also  I  would  like  to  buy  something  for  Mrs.  Graham — • 
a  little  present — I  know  not  what.  Also  for  my  papa.  Is 
there  nothing  very  strange — very  curious  !  " 

"  But,  alas  !  mademoiselle,"  said  he,  *'  we  have  here  no 
manufactures.  Our  business  of  the  neighborhood  is  agri- 
culture. All  these  articles  in  the  bazar  are  from  Cairo;  we 
have  not  even  any  of  the  Assiout  pottery,  which  is  pretty 
and  curious,  but  perhaps  not  safe  to  carry  on  a  long  journey. 
The  silver  jewelry  is  all  from  Cairo  ;  those  silks  from  Cairo 
also ;  those  cottons  from  England." 

"  At  Cairo,  then,  one  could  purchase  some  things  truly 
Egyptian  ?" 

"Certainly — certainly,  mademoiselle,  you  will  find  the 
bazars  at  Cairo  full  of  interest.  Ah,  I  wish  with  all  my  heart 
I  could  accompany  you !  " 

"  That  would  be  to  encroach  entirely  too  much  on  your 
goodness,"  said  she  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

•'  Not  at  all,"  said  he,  earnestly.  "  Ah,  no ;  not  at 
all.  It  is  so  charming  to  find  one's  self  for  a  time  in  new 
society ;  and  if  one  can  be  of  a  little  assistance,  that  is  so 
much  the  better.  There  is  also  something  I  would  speak  to 
monsieur  your  father  about  mademoiselle,  before  you  return 
to  the  dahabeeyah.  I  have  arranged  one  or  two  excursions 
for  you,  which  may  interest  you  perhaps  ;  and  the  necessary 
means  are  all  prepared  ;  and  I  think  it  might  be  of  advantage 
to  begin  these  at  once.  There  is  no  danger — no,  no  ;  there 
is  no  cause  for  any  alarm ;  but  always  of  late  the  political 
atmosphere  has  been  somewhat  disturbed ;  and  if  you  were 
at  Cairo  you  would  find  out  better  what  was  going  to  hap- 
pen then  we  ourselves  do  here.  Then  as  you  have  said,  you 
would  wish  to  buy  some  things  ;  and  you  will  have  need  of 
plenty  of  time  to  go  through  the  bazars — " 

He  seemed  to  speak  with  a  little  caution  at  this  point. 

44 1  have  heard  the  gentlemen  speak  of  it,"  said  she,  with 
no  great  concern,  for  she  was  far  from  being  a  nervous 
person  ;  u  but  they  seemed  to  think  there  was  no  danger." 

"  Danger  ?  No,  no,"  said  he.  "  For  you  there  can  be 
no  danger.  But  if  there  is  political  disquiet  and  disturbance, 
it  might  not  be  quite  agreeable  for  you  ;  and  that  is  all  I 
wish  to  say  to  monsieur  your  father,  that  he  would  have  the 
goodness  to  make  the  excursions  as  soon  as  possible,  and  so 


YULAND&.  1'26 

leave  more  time  for  judging  the  situation.  It  is  a  hint — it 
is  a  suggestion — that  is  all." 

"  I  am  sure  that  my  papa  and  Colonel  Graham  will  do 
whatever  you  think  best,1'  said  she. 

*'  You  are  very  good,  mademoiselle.  I  wish  to  serve 
them,"  said  lie,  with  grave  courtesy. 

Well,  not  only  did  this  young  man — whether  intention- 
ally or  not  it  was  impossible  to  say — monopolize  Yolande's 
society  during  the  remainder  of  their  exploration  of  JMer- 
hadj,  but,  furthermore,  on  their  embarking  in  their  boat  to 
return,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  dine  with  them  'hat 
same  evening;  and  the  Master  of  Lynn  was  determined 
that,  before  young  Isrnat  put  foot  on  board  thedahabeeyah. 
Yolande  would  be  civilly  but  firmly  requested  to  amend 
her  ways.  It  was  all  very  well  for  his  sister,  who  was  a 
born  flirt,  to  go  about  making  great  friends  with  strangers; 
and  it  was  all  very  well  for  Colonel  Graham,  who  was  too 
lazy  to  care  about  anything,  to  look  on  with  good-humored 
indifference.  But  already  this  audacious  youth  had  begun 
to  pose  Yolande  as  an  exalted  being.  She  knew  nothing 
about  garrison  life  in  India. 

He  had  very  considerable  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  pri- 
vate conversation  with  Yolande,  for  life  on  board  the 
dahabeeyah  was  distinctly  public  and  social ;  but  late  on  in 
the  afternoon  he  succeeded. 

11  So,  Yolande,"  said  he,  with  an  artful  carelessness, 
"  this  lias  been  the  first  day  of  our  engagement." 

"Oh  yes,"  said  she,  looking  up  in  a  pleasant  way. 

"  We  haven't  seen  much  of  each  other,"  he  suggested. 

"  Ah,  no  ;  it  has  been  such  a  busy  day.  How  much 
nicer  is  the  quiet  here,  is  it  not?  " 

4<  But  you  seemed  to  find  Ismat  Effendi  sufficiently 
amusing,"  he  said,  somewhat  coldly. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  answered,  quite  frankly.  "  And  so 
clever  and  intelligent.  I  hope  we  shall  see  him  when  he 
comes  to  England." 

14 1  thought,"  said  he,  "that  in  France  young  ladies  were 
brought  up  to  be  rather  reserved — that  they  were  not  sup- 
posed to  become  so  friendly  with  chance  acquaintances." 

Perhaps  there  was  something  in  the  tone  that  caused  her 
to  look  up,  this  time  rather  seriously. 

"  I  should  not  call  him  a  chance  acquaintance,"  she  said, 
•lowly.  "  lie  is  the  friend  of  Colonel  Graham,  and  of  pnpa, 


1  -JO  YOLANDE. 

and  of  yourself."  And  then  she  added,  speaking  still  >lowly 
and  still  regarding  him,  "Did  you  think  I  was  not  enough 
reserved  ?  " 

Well,  there  was  a  kind  of  obedience  in  her  nianneK — a 
sort  of  biddublenoss  in  her  eyes — that  entirely  took  the 
wind  out  of  the  sails  of  his  intended  reproof. 

"You  see,  Yrobmde,"  said  he,  in  a  much  more  friendly 
way,  "  perhaps  it  was  mere  bad  luck  ;  but  after  getting 
engaged  only  last  night,  you  may  imagine  I  wanted  to  see  a 
little  of  you  to-day  ;  and  you  can't  suppose  that  I  quite 
liked  that  Egyptian  fellow  monopolizing  you  the  whole  time. 
Of  course  I  am  not  jealous — and  not  jealous  of  that  fellow  ! 
— for  jealousy  implies  suspicion  ;  and  I  know  you  too  well. 
But  perhaps  you  don't  quite  understand  that  people  who 
are  engaged  have  a  little  claim  on  each  other,  and  expect  to 
be  treated  with  a  little  more  intimacy  and  friendliness 
than  as  if  they  were  outsiders." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  understand,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  cast 
down. 

"  Of  course  I  am  not  complaining,"  he  continued,  in  the 
most  amiable  way.  "  It  would  be  a  curious  thing  if  I  were 
to  begin  to  complain  now,  after  what  you  said  last  night. 
But  you  can't  wonder  if  I  am  anxious  to  have  all  your 
kindness  to  myself,  and  that  I  should  like  you  and  me  to 
have  different  relations  between  ourselves  than  those  we 
have  with  other  people.  An  engagement  means  giving  up 
something  on  both  sides,  I  suppose.  Do  you  think  I  should 
like  to  see  you  waltzing  with  any  one  else  now  ?  It  isn't 
in  human  nature  that  I  should  like  it." 

"Then  I  will  not  waltz  with  any  one,"  she  said,  still 
looking  down. 

"And  I  don't  think  you  will  find  me  a  tyrannous  sort  of 
person,  Yolande,"  said  he  with  a  smile,  "even  if  you  were 
inclined  to  make  an  engagement  a  much  more  serious 
matter  than  you  seem  to  consider  it.  It  is  more  likely  you 
who  will  prove  the  tyrant ;  for  you  have  your  own  way 
with  everybody,  and  why  not  with  me  too?  And  I  hope 
you  understand  why  I  spoke,  don't  you?  You  don't  think 
it  unkind?" 

44  Oh  no,  I  quite  understand,"  she  said,  in  the  same  low 
voice. 

Ismat  Kffendi  came  to  dinner,  as  he  had  promised.  She 
•poke  scarcely  a  word  to  him  the  whole  evening. 


f.AXDE.  127 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A    CHAT    IN    THE    DESERT. 

"  AKCHIE,"  snid  his  sister,  on  one  occnsion,  in  rather  a 
significant  tone,  "you  will  have  some  trouble  with  papa." 

They  wore  on  their  way  to  visit  a  convent  some  few 
miles  inland,  and  the  only  thing  that  varied  the  monotony 
of  the  journey  was  the  occasional  stumbling  of  the  wretched 
animals  they  rode,  lie  glanced  round  to  see  that  the  others 
were  far  enough  off,  then  he  said,  either  carelessly  or  with 
an  affectation  of  carelessness, — 

"  I  dare  say.  Oh  yes,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  But  there 
would  have  been  a  row  in  any  case,  so  it  does  not  matter 
much.  If  I  had  brought  home  the  daughter  of  an  arch-, 
angel  he  would  have  growled  and  grumbled.  lie  gave 
you  a  pretty  warm  lime  of  it,  Polly,  before  he  let  you  marry 
Graham." 

And  then  he  said,  with  more  vehemence, — 

"Jiang  it  all,  my  father  doesn't  understand  the  con- 
dition of  things  nowadays!  The  peerage  isn't  sacred  any 
longer;  you  can't  expect  people  to  keep  on  intermarrying 
and  intermarrying,  just  to  please  Burke.  We  can  show  a 
pretty  good  list,  you  know,  and  I  wouldn't  add  any  name 
to  it  that  would  disgrace  it;  but  that  craze  of  my  father's 
is  all  nonsense.  Why,  the  only  place  nowadays  where  a 
lord  is  worshipped  and  glorified  is  the  United  States;  that's 
where  I  should  have  gone  if  I  had  wanted  to  marry  for 
money  ;  I  dare  say  they  would  have  found  out  that  sooner 
or  later  I  should  succeed  to  a  peerage.  Of  course  my 
father  is  treated  with  great  respect  when  he  goes  to  attend 
meetings  at  Inverness  ;  and  the  keepers  and  gillies  think  lie 
is  the  greatest  man  in  the  kingdom;  but  what  would  he  be 
in  London  ?  Why,  there  you  find  governing  England  a 
commoner,  whose  family  made  their  money  in  business; 
and  under  him — and  glad  enough  to  take  office  too — noble- 
men whose  names  are  as  old  as  the  history  of  England — " 

His  sister  interrupted  him. 

k' My  dear  Master,"  said  she,  "please  remember  that 
because  a  girl  is  pretty,  her  father's  politics  are  not  neces 


128  YOLANDE. 

sarily  right.  If  you  have  imbibed  those  frightful  senti- 
ments from  Mr.  Winterbourne,  for  goodness'  sake  sjiy 
nothing  about  them  at  the  Towers.  The  matter  will  be 
difficult  enough  without  that.  You  see,  with  anybody 
else,  it  might  be  practicable  to  shelve  politics,  but  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne's  views  and  opinions  are  too  widely  known  ;  and 
you  will  have  quite  enough  difficulty  in  getting  papa  to  re- 
ceive Mr.  Winterbourne  with  decent  civillity,  without  your 
talking  any  wild  Radicalism  in  that  way." 

"  Radicalism  ?  "  said  he.  "  It  is  no*t  Radicalism.  It  is 
common-sense,  which  is  just  the  reverse  of  Radicalism. 
However,  what  I  have  resolved  on  is  this,  Polly  :  his  lord- 
ship shall  remain  in  complete  ignorance  of  the  whole  affair 
until  Yolande  goes  to  Allt-nam-Ba.  Then  he  will  see  her. 
That  ought  to  do  something  to  smooth  the  way.  There  is 
another  thing,  too.  Winterbourne  has  taken  Allt-nam-Ba, 
and  my  father  ought  to  be  well  disposed  to  him  on  that  ac- 
count alone." 

"  Because  a  gentleman  rents  a  shooting  from  you  for 
one  year — " 

"But  why  one  year?"  he  interposed,  quickly.  "Why 
shouldn't  Winterbourne  take  a  lease  of  it?  lie  can  well 
afford  it.  And  with  Yolande  living  up  there,  of  course  he 
would  like  to  come  and  see  her  sometimes;  and  Allt-nam- 
Ba  is  just  the  place  for  a  man  to  bring  a  bachelor  friend  or 
two  with  him  from  London.  He  can  well  afford  it.  It  is 
his  only  amusement.  It  would  be  a  good  arrangement  for 
me  too ;  for  I  could  lend  him  a  hand  ;  and  the  moor  wants 
hard  shooting,  else  we  shall  be  having  the  disease  back 
again  some  fine  day.  Then  we  should  continue  to  let  the 
forest." 

"  And  where  are  you  and  Yolande  going  to  live,  then  ?  " 
said  his  sister,  regarding  him  with  a  curious  look.  "Are 
you  going  to  install  her'as  mistress  of  the  Towers?" 

"Take  her  to  Lynn!"  he  said,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
"  Yes,  I  should  think  so !  Cage  her  up  with  that  old  cat, 
indeed  !" 

"  She  is  my  aunt  as  well  as  yours,  and  I  will  not  have 
her  spoken  of  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  sharply. 

"  She  is  my  aunt,"  said  this  young  man  ;  "  and  she  is 
yours  ;  and  she  is  an  old  cat  as  well.  Never  mind,  Polly. 
You  will  see  such  tilings  at  Lynn  as  your  small  head  never 
dreamed  of.  The  place  has  just  been  starved  for  want  of 
money.  You  must  see  that  when  you  think  of  Inverstroy; 


YOLANDE.  129 

look  how  well  everything  is  done  there.  And  then,  when 
you  consider  how  we  have  been  working  to  pay  off  scores 
run  up  by  other  people — that  seems  rnther  hard,  doesn't  it?  ' 
"  I  don't  think  so — I  don't  think  so  at  all!"  his  sister 
said,  promptly.  "  Our  family  may  have  made  mistakes 
in  politics  ;  but  that  was  better  than  always  truckling  to 
the  winning  side.  We  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  And 
you  ought  to  be  very  glad  that  so  much  of  the  land  remains 
ours," 

"  Well,  you  will  see  what  can  be  made  of  it,"  her 
brother  said,  confidently.  "  I  don't  regret  now  the  long 
struggle  to  keep  the  place  together  '.  and  once  we  get  back 
Corricvreak,  we'll  have  the  watershed  for  the  march 
again." 

His  face  brightened  up  at  this  prospect. 
"  That  will  be  something,  Polly  ? "  he  said,  gayly. 
"What  a  view  there  is  from  the  tops  all  along  that  march  ! 
You've  got  the  whole  of  Inverness-shire  spread  out  around 
yon  like  a  map.  I  think  it  was  £8000  my  grandfather  got 
for  Corrievreak  ;  but  I  suppose  Sir  John  will  want  £15,000. 
I  know  he  is  ready  to  part  with  it,  for  it  is  of  little  use  to 
him ;  it  does  not  lie  well  with  his  forest.  But  if  we  bad  it- 
back — and  with  the  sheep  taken  off  Allt-nam-Ba — " 

"  Jim     says     you     ought     to   make    Corrievreak    V^« 
sanctuary,"  his  sister    remarked ;   and  indeed    she   seemed 
quite  as  much  interested  as  he  in  these  joyful  forecasts. 
"  Why,  of  course.     There  couldn't  be  a  better — " 
"  And   I   was   saying   that  if  you   planted   the  Rush  en 
slopes,  and  built  a  good  large  comfortable  lodge   there,  you 
would  get  a  far  better  rent  for   the   forest,     You   know   it 
isn't  like  the  old  days,  Archie  :  the  people  who   come  from 
the  south  now,  come   because  it   is   the  fashion  ;  and  they 
must  have  a  fine  house  for  their  friends — " 

"  Yes,  and  hot  luncheons  sent  up  the  hill,  with  cham- 
pagne glasses  and  table  napkins  ! "  said  he.  "No  more 
biscuits  and  a  flask  to  last  you  from  morning  till  night. 
The  next  thing  will  be  a  portable  dining-table  that  can  be 
taken  up  into  one  of  the  corries  ;  and  then  they  will  have 
finger-glasses,  I  suppose,  after  lunch.  No  matter.  For 
there  is  another  thing,  my  sweet  Mrs.  Graham,  that  per- 
haps you  have  not  considered  :  it  may  come  to  pass  that,  as 
time  goes  on,  we  may  not  have  to  let  the  forest  at  all. 
That  would  be  much  better  than  being  indebted  to  your 
tenant  for  a  day's  stalking  in  your  own  forest." 


130  YOLAXDE. 

And  then  it  seemed  to  strike  him  that  all  this  planning 
and  arranging — on  the  basis  of  Yolande's  fortune — sounded 
just  a  little  bit  mercenary. 

"  To  hear  us  talking  like  this,"  said  he,  with  a  laugh, 
**  any  one  would  imagine  that  I  was  marrying  in  order  to 
improve  the  Lynn  estate.  Well,  we  haven't  quite  come  to 
that  yet,  I  hope.  If  it  were  merely  a  question  of  money,  I 
could  have  gone  to  America,  as  I  said.  That  would  have 
been  the  market  for  the  only  kind  of  goods  I've  got  to  sell. 
No.  I  don't  think  any  one  can  bring  that  against  me." 

"  I,  for  one,  would  not  think  of  accusing  you  of  any 
such  things,"  said  his  sister,  warmly.  "  I  hope  you  would 
have  more  pride.  Jim  was  poor  enough  when  I  married 
him." 

"Now  if  I  were  marrying  for  money,"  said  he  — and  he 
seemed  eager  to  rebut  this  charge — "  I  would  have  no  scru- 
ples at  all  about  asking  Yolande  to  go  and  live  at  Lynn.  Of 
course  it  would  be  a  very  economical  arrangement.  But 
would  I?  I  should  think  not.  I  wouldn't  have  her  shut 
up  there  for  anything.  But  I  hope  she  will  like  the  house, 
as  a  visitor,  and  get  on  well  with  my  father  and  my  aunt. 
Don't  you  think  she  will  produce  a  good  impression  ? 
What  I  hope  for  most  of  all  is  that  Jack  Melville  may  take 
a  fancy  to  her.  That  would  settle  it  in  a  minute,  you  know. 
Whatever  Melville  approves,  that  is  right — at  the  Towers 
or  anywhere  else.  It's  his  cheek,  you  know.  He  believes 
in  himself,  and  everybody  else  believes  in  him.  It  isn't 
only  at  Gress  that  he  is  the  dominie.  4  He  is  a  scholar  and 
a  gentleman' — that  is  my  beloved  auntie's  pet  phrase,  as  if 
his  going  to  Oxford  on  the  strength  of  the  Ferguson  scholar- 
ship made  him  an  authority  on  the  right  construction  of  a 
salmon  ladder." 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  speak  of  your  friends  behind  their 
back  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  jumps  upon  me  considerably,"  said  he,  frankly : 
"  and  I  may  as  well  take  it  out  of  him  when  he  is  at  Gress 
and  I  am  in  Egypt.  No  matter.  If  he  takes  a  fancy  to 
Yolande  it  will  be  all  right.  That  is  how  they  do  with 
cigars  and  wines  in  London — c  specially  selected  and  ap- 
provi'd  by  Messrs.  So-and-so.'  It  is  a  guarantee  of  genuine 
quality.  And  so  it  will  be  *  Yolande  Winterbourne,  ap- 
proved by  Jack  Melville,  of  Monaglun,  and  forwarded  on  to 
Lynn  Towers.'  ' 

11  If  that  is  all,  that  can  be  easily  managed."  said  hia 


YOLANDE.  131 

sister,  cheerfully.  "  When  she  is  with  us  at  Inverstroy  we 
will  take  her  over  to  call  on  Mrs.  Boll." 

"  I  know  what  Mrs.  Bell  wih  call  her — I  know  the  very 
phrase  :  she  will  say,  'She  is  a  bonnie  doo,  that.'  The  old 
lady  is  rather  proud  of  the  Scotch  she  picked  up  in  the 
south." 

14  She  ought  to  be  prouder  of  the  plunder  she  picked  up 
further  south  still.  She  *  drew  up  wi'  glaiket  Englishcrs  at 
Carlisle  Ha' '  to  some  purpose." 

"  Yes  ;  and  Jack  Melville  will  have  every  penny  of  it ; 
and  a  good  solid  nest-egg  it  must  be  by  this  time.  I  am 
certain  the  old  lady  has  an  eye  on  Monaglen.  What  an 
odd  thing  it  would  be  if  Melville  were  to  have  Monaglen 
handed  over  to  him  just  as  we  were  getting  back  Cor- 
rievreak  !  I  think  there  are  some  curious  changes  in  store  in 
that  part  of  the  world." 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Graham  pulled  up  her  sorry  steed, 
and  waited  until  the  rest  of  the  cavalcade  came  along. 

"  Yolande  dear,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance, 
"  Why  don't  you  come  on  in  front,  and  get  less  of  the  dust  ?  " 

Yolande  did  as  she  was  bid. 

"  I  have  been  so  much  interested,"  said  she,  brightly. 
"  What  a  chance  it  is  to  learn  about  Afghanistan  and 
Russia — from  one  who  knows,  as  Colonel  Graham  does! 
You  read  and  read  in  Parliament;  but  they  all  contradict  each 
other.  And  Colonel  Graham  is  quite  of  my  papa's  opinion." 

"Well,  now,  the  stupidity  of  it!"  said  pretty  Mrs. 
Graham,  with  an  affected  petulance.  "  You  people  have 
been  talking  away  about  Afghanistan,  and  Archie  and  I 
have  been  talking  away  about  the  Highlands — in  the  African 
desert.  What  is  the  use  of  it  ?  We  ought  to  talk  about 
what  is  around  us." 

4<  I  propose,"  said  the  Master  of  Lynn.  "  that  Yolande 
gives  us  a  lecture  on  the  antiquities  of  Karnac." 

"  Do  you  know,  then,  that  I  could  ?  "  said  she.  **  But 
not  this  Karnac.  No ;  the  one  in  Brittany.  I  lived  near  it 
at  Auray,  for  a  long  time,  before  I  was  taken  to  the 
Chateau." 

"My  dear  Yolande."  exclaimed  Mrs.  Graham,  "  if  you 
will  tell  us  about  yourself,  and  your  early  life  and  all  that, 
we  will  pack  off  all  the  mummies  and  tombs  and  pillars 
that  ever  existed." 

"  But  there  is  no  story  at  all,  except  a  sad  one,"  said 
the  girl.  "  My  uncle  was  a  French  gentleman — ah,  so  kind 


132  YOLANDE. 

he  was  ! — and  one  day  in  the  winter  he  was  shot  in  the 
woods  when  he  and  the  other  gentlemen  were  out.  Oh,  it 
must  have  been  terrible  when  they  brought  him  home — not 
quite  dead  !  But  they  did  not  tell  me ;  and  perhaps  I  was  too 
young  to  experience  all  the  misery.  But  it  killed  my  aunt, 
who  had  taken  me  away  from  England  when  my  mother 
died.  She  would  not  see  any  one ;  she  shut  herself  up  ; 
then  one  morning  she  was  found  dead ;  and  then  they  sent 
for  my  father,  and  he  took  me  to  the  ladies  at  the  Chateau. 
That  is  all.  Perhaps  if  I  had  been  older  I  should  have  un- 
derstood it  more,  and  been  more  grieved ;  but  now,  when  I 
look  back  at  Auray  and  our  living  there,  I  think  mostly  of 
the  long  drives  with  my  aunt,  when  my  uncle  was  away  at 
the  chase,  and  often  and  often  we  drove  along  the  peninsula 
of  Quiberon,  which  not  every  one  visits.  And  was  it  a 
challenge,  then,"  she  added,  in  a  brighter  way,  "  about  a 
lecture  on  Karnac  ?  Oh,  I  can  give  you  one  very  easily. 
For  I  have  read  all  the  books  about  it,  and  I  can  give  yo* 
all  the  theories  about  it,  each  of  which  is  perfectly  self- 
evident,  and  all  of  them  quite  contradictory,  Shall  I  be- 
gin ?  It  was  a  challenge." 

*'  No,  Yolande,  I  would  far  rather  hear  your  own  theory," 
said  he,  gallantly. 

"  Mine?  I  have  not  the  vanity."  she  said,  lighty.  "But 
this  is  what  all  the  writers  do  not  know,  that  besides  the 
long  rows  of  stones  in  the  open  plains — oh,  hundreds  and 
thousands,  so  thick  that  all  the  farmhouses  and  the  stone 
walls  have  been  built  of  them  besides  these,  all  through  the 
woods,  wherever  you  go,  you  come  upon  separate  dolmens, 
sometimes  almost  covered  over.  My  aunt  and  I  used  to 
stop  the  carriage,  and  go  wandering  through  the  woods  in 
search  ;  and  always  we  thought  these  were  the  graves  of 
pious  people  who  wished  to  be  buried  in  a  sacred  place — 
near  where  the  priests  were  sacrificing  in  the  plain — and 
perhaps  that  their  friends  had  brought  their  bodies  from 
eome  distant  land." 

"  Just  as  the  Irish  kings  were  carried  to  lona  to  be 
buried,"  said  the  Master. 

*»  But,  Yolande  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  who  was  moro 
interested  in  the  story  of  Yolande's  youth  than  in  Celtic 
monuments,  '*  how  did  you  come  to  keep  up  your  English, 
since  you  have  lived  all  your  life  in  France? 

"But  my  aunt  spoke  English,  naturally,"  said  she. 
"Then  at  the  Chateau  one  of  the  ladies  also  spoke  it — <>h,  I 


YOLANDL.  133 

nssure  you,  there  was  no  European  language  she  did  not 
speak,  nor  any  country  she  did  not  know,  for  she  had  been 
travel  ling  companion  to  a  noble  lady.  And  always  her 
belief  was  that  you  must  learn  Latin  as  the  first  key." 

"Then  did  you  learn  Latin,  Yolande?  "  the  Master  of 
Lynn  inquired,  with  some  vague  impression  that  the  ques- 
tion was  jocular,  for  Yolande  had  not  revealed  any  traces 
of  erudition. 

"  If  you  will  examine  me  in  Virgil,  I  think  I  shall  pass," 
said  she*;  "  but  in  Horace — not  at  all  .  It  is  distressing 
the  way  lie  twists  the  meaning  about  the  little  short  lines,  and 
hides  it  away  ;  I  never  had  patience  enough  for  him.  Ah, 
there  is  one  who  does  not  hide  his  meaning,  there  is  one  who 
can  write  the  line  that  goes  straight  and  sounding  and 
majestic.  You  have  not  to  puzzle  over  the  meaning  when 
it  is  Victer  Hugo  who  recounts  to  you  the  story  of 
1\  uy  Jllas,  of  Cromwell,  of  Angelo,  of  Jlernani.  That  is 
not  the  poetry  that  is  made  with  needles." 

Mrs.  Graham  was  scarcely  prepared  for  this  declaration 
of  faith. 

"  My  dear  Yolande,"  said  she,  cautiously,  "  Victor 
Hugo's  dramas  are  very  fine;  but  I  would  not  call  them 
meat  for  babes.  At  the  Chateau,  now — " 

"  Oh,  they  were  strictly  forbidden,"  she  said,  frankly. 
"  Madame  would  have  stormed  if  she  had  known.  But  we 
read  them  all  the  same.  Why  not  ?  What  is  the  harm  ? 
Every  one  knows  that  there  is  crime  and  wrong  in  the 
world  ;  why  should  one  shut  one's  eyes? — that  is  folly.  Is 
it  not  better  to  be  indignant  that  there  should  be  such  crime 
and  wrong?  If  there  is  any  one  who  takes  harm  from  such 
writing,  he  must  be  a  strange  person." 

"  At  all  events,  Yolande,"  said  he,  <c  1  hope  you  don't 
think  that  all  kings  arc  scoundrels,  and  all  convicts  angels 
of  light!  Victor  Hugo  is  all  very  well,  and  he  thunders 
along  in  fine  style  ;  but  don't  you  think  he  comes  awfully 
near  being  ridiculous?  lie  hasn't  much  notion  of  a  joke, 
has  he?  Don't  you  think  he  is  rather  too  portentously 
solemn?" 

Well,  this  inquiry  into  Yolande's  opinions  and  exper- 
iences— which  was  intensely  interesting  to  him,  and  natu- 
rally so — was  eliciting  some  odd  revelations;  for  it  no\v 
appeared  that  she  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  tht 
French,  as  a  nation,  were  a  serious  and  sombre  people. 

"  Do  you  not  think  so?"  she  said,  with  wide  eyos.  u()h, 


134  YOLANDE. 

[  have  found  them  so  grave.  The  poor  people  in  the  fields, 
when  you  speak  to  them  and  they  answer,  it  is  always  with 
a  sigh ;  they  look  sad  and  tired  ;  the  care  of  work  lies  heavi- 
ly on  them.  And  at  the  Chateau,  also,  everything  was  so 
serious  and  formal ;  and  when  we  paid  visits  there  was  none 
of  the  freedom,  the  amusement,  the  good-humor,  of  the  En- 
glish house.  Sometimes,  indeed,  at  Oatlands,  at  Weybridge, 
and  once  or  twice  in  London,  when  my  papa  has  taken  me 
to  visit,  I  have  thought  the  mamma  a  little  blunt  in  her 
frankness — in  the  expectation  you  would  find  yourself  at 
home  without  any  trouble  on  her  part ;  but  the  daughters — 
oh,  they  were  always  very  kind,  and  then  so  full  of  interest, 
about  boating,  or  tennis,  or  something  like  that — always  so 
full  of  spirits,  and  cheerful — no,  it  was  not  in  the  least  like 
a  visit  to  a  French  family.  In  France,  how  many  years  is 
it  before  you  become  friends  with  a  neighbor?  In  England, 
if  you  are  among  nice  people,  it  is — to-morrow.  You,  dear, 
Airs.  Graham,  when  you  came  to  Oatlands,  what  did  you 
know  about  me  ?  Nothing." 

"  Bless  the  child,  had  I  not  my  eyes?"  Mrs.  Graham  ex- 
claimed. 

"But  before  two  or  three  days  you  were  calling  me  by 
my  Christian  name." 

"  Indeed  I  did,"  said  Mrs.  Graham  ;  "  if  it  is  a  Christian 
name,  which  I  doubt.  But  this  I  may  suggest  to  you,  my 
dear  Yolande,  that  you  don't  pay  me  a  compliment,  after 
the  friendship  you  speak  of,  and  the  relationship  we  are  all 
hoping  for,  in  calling  me  by  my  married  name.  The  name 
of  Polly  is  not  very  romantic — " 

"  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Graham,  I  couldn't ! "  said  Yolande, 
almost  in  affright. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  pretty  young  matron,  with 
one  of  her  most  charming  smiles.  "  Of  course  you  couldn't 
be  guilty  of  such  familiarity  with  one  of  my  advanced 
age.  But  I  suppose  Jim  is  right ;  I  am  getting  old.  Only 
lie  doesn't  seem  to  consider  that  a  reason  for  treating  me 
with  any  increasing  respect." 

44 1  am  sure  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,"  Yolande 
protested,  almost  in  a  voice  of  entreaty.  44  How  could  you 
imagine  it  ?" 

44  Very  well.  But  if  you  consider  that  '  Polly  '  is  not  in 
accordance  with  my  age  or  my  serious  character  as  a 
mother  and  a  wife,  there  is  ft  compromise  in  4  Mary,' 
which  indeed,  was  my  proper  name  until  1  foil  into  Uit 


Y01.ANDE.  135 

hands  of  men.  I  used  always  to  be  cnlled  Mary,  until 
Archie  and  Jim  began  with  their  impertinence.  And  when 
we  are  in  the  Highlands  together,  you  know,  and  you  are 
Maying  with  us  at  Inverstroy,  or  we  are  visiting  you  at 
Allt-nam-Ba,  or  when  we  are  all  together  at  the  Towers, 
whatever  would  the  people  think  if  they  heard  you  call 
me  'Mrs.  Graham?'  They  would  think  we  had  quarrelled." 

*'  Then  you  are  to  be  my  sister  Mary  ?"  said  Yolande, 
placidly ;  but  the  Master  of  Lynn  flushed  with  pleasure 
when  he  heard  that  phrase. 

44  And  I  will  be  your  champion  and  protectress  when 
you  come  into  our  savage  wilds  in  a  way  you  can't  dream 
of,"  continued  pretty  Mrs.  Graham.  "You  don't  know 
how  we  stand  by  each  other  in  the  highlands.  We  stand  up 
for  our  own ;  and  you  will  be  one  of  us  in  good  time,  And 
you  haven't  the  least  idea  what  a  desperate  person  I  am 
when  my  temper  is  up — though  Jim  would,  tell  you  he 
knows.  Well,  now,  I  suppose  that  is  the  convent  over 
there,  behind  those  palms  ;  arid  we  have  been  chattering 
the  whole  way  about  the  Highlands,  and  Victor  Hugo,  and 
I  don't  know  what;  and  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  we 
are  going  to  see  or  what  we  have  to  do." 

But  here  the  dragoman  came  up  to  assume  the  leader- 
ship of  the  party,  and  the  Master  of  Lynn  allowed  himself 
to  be  eclipsed.  He  was  not  sorry.  lie  was  interested  far 
less  in  the  things  around  him  than  in  the  glimpses  he  had 
just  got  of  Yolande's  earlier  years;  and  he  was  trying  to 
place  these  one  after  another,  to  make  a  connected  picture 
of  her  life  up  till  the  time  that  this  journey  brought  him 
and  her  together.  Could  anything  be  more  preoccupying 
than  this  study  of  the  companion  who  was  to  be  with  him 
through  all  the  long  future  time?  And  already  fihe  wan 
related  to  him  ;  she  had  chosen  his  sister  to  be  hers. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  PlIRASK. 


BUT  these  idle  wanderings  of  theirs  in  Upper  Egypt 
were  destined  to  come  to  a  sudden  end.  One  evening  they 
were  coming  down  the  river,  and  were  about  to  pasa 
Merhodj,  when  they  saw  young  Ismat  Effendi  putting  off 


136  YOLANDR. 

in  another  boat,  evidently  with  the  intention  of  intercepting 
them.  They  immediately  ordered  their  boat  to  be  pulled  in 
to  the  shore  ;  and  as  Ismat  said  he  wanted  to  say  something 
to  them,  they  stepped  on  board  his  father's  dahabeeyah, 
ami  went  into  the  saloon,  for  the  sake  of  coolness. 

Then  the  bright-faced  young  Egyptian,  who  seemed  at 
euro  excited  and  embarrassed,  iLokf  them,  in  his  fluent  and 
<»ddly  phrased  English,  that  he  was  much  alarmed,  and 
licit  his  alarm  was  not  on  account  of  any  danger  that 
might  happen  to  them,  but  was  the  fear  that  they  might 
think  him  discourteous  and  inhospitable. 

"  Who  could  think  that  ?  "  said  pretty  Mrs.  Graham, 
in  her  sweetest  way. 

"Of  course  not.  What's  the  matter?*'  said  her 
husband,  more  bluntly. 

Then  young  Ismat  proceeded  to  explain  that  the  latest 
news  from  the  capital  was  not  satisfactory ;  that  many 
Europeans  were  leaving  the  country ;  that  the  reports  in 
the  journals  were  very  contradictory ;  and  that,  in  short, 
no  one  seemed  to  know  what  might  not  happen.  And 
then  he  went  on  to  implore  them,  if  he  suggested  that  they 
ought  to  return  to  Cairo,  and  satisfy  themselves  of  their 
safety  by  going  to  the  English  Consulate  there,  not  to 
imagine  that  he  wished  them  to  shorten  their  visit,  or  that 
his  father  desired  to  dispossess  them  of  the  dahabeeyah. 
"  How  could  that  be,"  he  said,  quite  anxiously,  "  when 
here  was  another  dahabeeyah  lying  idle  ?  No  ;  the  other 
dahabeeyah  was  wholly  at  their  service  for  as  long  as  they 
chose  ;  and  it  would  be  a  great  honor  to  his  father,  and  the 
highest  happiness  to  himself,  if  they  were  to  remain  at 
Merhadj  for  the  longest  period  they  could  command ;  but 
was  he  not  bound,  especially  when  there  were  two  ladies 
with  them,  to  let  them  know  what  he  had  heard,  and  give 
them  counsel?  " 

0  My  dear  fellow,  we  understand  perfectly,"  said  Colonel 
(ii-aham,  with  his  accustomed  good-humor.  "And  much 
obliged  for  the  hint.  Fact  is,  I  think  we  ought  to  get  back 
to  Cairo  in  any  case;  for  these  women-folk  want  to  have  a 
turn  at  tho  bazars,  and  by  the  time  they  have  half  ruined 
us,  we  shall  just  be  able  to  get  along  to  Suez  to  catch  the 
G-angea — " 

"  We  must  have  plenty  of  time  in  Cairo, "  said  Mrs. 
Graham,  emphatically. 

11  Oh    yes,"   said  he,     "Never   mind    the  danger.     Let 


YOLANDE.  137 

them  buy  silver  necklaces,  and  they   won't   heed    anythin 
else.     Very  well,  Mr.  Isrnat,  come  along  with    us   now  an 
have  some  dinner,  and  we  can  talk  things  over.     We   shall 
just  be  in  time." 

"  May  I  ?  "  said  the  young  Egyptian  to  Mrs.  Graham. 
"  I  am  not  intruding?  " 

*'  We  shall  be  delighted  if  you  will  come  with  us,"  said 
she,  with  one  of  her  most  gracious  smiles. 

"  It  will  not  be  pleasant  for  me  when  you  go,"  said  he. 
"  There  is  not  much  society  here." 

"  Nor  will  you  find  much  society  when  you  come  to  see 
us  at  Inverstroy,  Mr.  Ismat,"  she  answered.41  But  we  will 
make  up  for  that  by  giving  you  a  true  Highland  welcome : 
shall  we  not,  Yolande  dear?  " 

Yolande  was  not  in  the  least  embarrassed.  She  had  quite 
grown  accustomed  to  consider  the  Highlands  as  her  future 
home. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  said,  simply.  "  We  are  not  likely  to 
forget  the  kindness  Mr.  Ismat  has  shown  to  us»" 

"Oh,  mademoiselle  !  "  said  he. 

Now  this  resolve  to  go  back  to  Cairo,  and  to  get  along 
from  thence  in  time  to  catch  the  P.  and  O.  steamer  Ganges 
at  Suez,  was  hailed  with  satisfaction  by  each  member  of  the 
little  party,  though  for  very  different  reasons.  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne  was  anxious  to  be  at  St.  Stephen's  before  the 
Budget ;  and  he  could  look  forward  to  giving  uninterrupted 
attention  to  his  Parliamentary  duties,  for  Yolande  was  going 
on  to  Investroy  with  the  Grahams.  Yolande  herself  was  glad 
to  think  that  soon  she  would  be  installed  as  house-mistress 
at  Allt-nam-Ba ;  she  had  all  her  lists  ready  for  the  shops  at 
Inverness;  and  she  wanted  time  to  have  the  servants  tested 
before  her  father's  arrival.  Mrs.  Graham,  of  course,  lived 
in  the  one  blissful  hope  of  seeing  Baby  again  ;  while  her 
husband  was  beginning  to  think  that  a  little  salmon-fishing 
would  be  an  excellent  thing.  But  the  reason  the  Master  of 
Lynn  had  for  welcoming  this  decision  was  much  more 
occult. 

"  Polly,"  he  had  said  to  his  sister  on  the  previous  day, 
"  do  you  know,  your  friend  Miss  Yolande — " 

"My  friend  !  "  she  said,  staring  at  him. 
•  "  She  seems  more  intimate  with    you  than  with  any  one 
else,  at    all  events,"   said  lie.     "Well,  I  was   going   to    say 
that  she  takes  tilings  pretty  coolly." 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 


138  YOLANDE. 

"  I  say  she  takes  things  very  coolly,"  he  repeated.    "No 
one  would  imagine  she  was  engaged  at  all." 
"  Are  you  complaining  of  her  already  ?" 
"  I  am  not  complaining ;  I  am  stating  a  fact." 
"  What  is  wrong  then?      Do  you  want  her  to  go  about 
proclaiming  her  engagement?      Why,   she   can't,       You 
haven't  given  her  an  engagement   ring  yet.      Give  her  her 
engagement  ring  first  and  then    she  can  go  about  and  show 

"  Oh,  you  know  very  well  what  1  mean.  You  know 
that  no  one  cares  less  about  sentimentality  and  that  sort  of 
thing  than  I  do  ;  I  don't  believe  in  it  much  ;  but  still — she  is 
just  a  trifle  too  business-like.  She  seems  to  say  :  'Did  I 
promise  to  niurry  ?  Oh.  very  well;  all  right,  when  the 
time  comes.  Call  again  to-morrow.'  Of  course  my  idea 
would  not  be  to  have  a  languishing  love-sick  maiden  always 
lolloping  at  your  elbow;  but  her  absolute  carelessness  and 
indifference — " 

"Oh,  Archie,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing !  She  is 
most  friendly  with  you — " 

"Friendly!  Yes;  so  she  is  with  Graham.  Is  it  the 
way  they  bring  up  girls  in  France  ? — to  have  precisely  the 
same  amount  of  friendliness  for  everybody—lovers,  husbands, 
or  even  other  people's  husbands.  It  is  convenient,  certainly ; 
but  things  might  get  mixed." 

44 1  wonder  to  hear  you,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  indignantly. 
"  You  don't  deserve  your  good  fortune.  The  fact  is,  Yo- 
l.mde  Winterbourne  happens  to  have  very  good  health  and 
spirits,  and  she  is  naturally  light-hearted  ;  whereas  you 
v,oul<l  like  to  have  her  sombre  and  mysterious,  I  suppose; 
or  perhaps  it  is  the  excitement  of  lovers'  quarrels  that  you 
u-jint.  Is  that  it?  Do  you  want  to  be  quarrelling  and 
making  up  again  all  day  long?  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
Archie,  you  haven't  hit  on  the  right  sort  of  girl.  Now 
tfhciM  Van  would  have  suited  you  ;  she  has  a  temper  that 
would  have  given  you  amusement — " 

4<  Leave  Miss  Stewart  alone,"  he  said,  roughly.  "  I 
wish  there  were  many  woman  in  the  world  like  her:  if  there 
are,  I  haven't  met  them." 

"  Yolando  is  too  good  for  you." 

'*  So  she  seems  to  think,  at  all  events." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  and  quarrel  with  her,  then  ?  What 
is  the  use  of  coming  and  talking  over  the  matter  with 


YOLANDE.  130 

"With  her?  It  wouldn't  interest  her.  She  would 
rather  talk  about  the  price  of  coals,  or  the  chances  of  the 
Irish  getting  Home  Rule— anything  but  what  ought  to  bo 
the  most  important  event  in  her  life." 

"  Archie,"  said  his  sister,  who  did  not  attach  too  much 
seriousness  to  these  temporary  moods  of  disappointment,  "  if 
papn  h'nds  out  that  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  half  inclined,  and 
more  than  half  inclined,  to  favor  Home  Rule,  he  will  go 
out  of  his  senses." 

"Let  him  go  out  of  his  senses,"  said  her  brother,  with 
deliberate  indifference.  "  I  suppose  the  worst  that  could 
happen  would  be  the  breaking  off  of  the  match." 

But  this  possibility,  involving  the  destruction  of  all  her 
beautiful  plans  and  dreams  of  the  future,  instantly  awoke 
her  alarm ;  and  her  protest  was  emphatic. 

"  Archie,"  said  she,  regarding  him  sternly,  "  I  beg  you 
to  remember  that  you  are  expected  to  act  as  a  gentle- 
man." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said. 

"I  will  tell  you,  plain  enough.  You  have  asked  this 
girl  to  be  your  wife;  she  has  accepted  you  ;  your  engage- 
ment has  been  made  known  ;  and  I  say  this,  that  if  you 
were  to  throw  her  over — I  don't  care  for  what  reason — you 
would  stamp  yourself  as  a  coward.  Is  that  plain  ?  A  girl 
may  be  allowed  to  change  her  mind —  at  least  she  some- 
times does,  and  there  is  not  much  said  against  her;  but  the 
man  who  engages  himself  to  a  girl,  and  allows  the  engage- 
ment to  be  know  and  talked  about,  and  then  throws  her 
over,  I  say  is  a  coward,  neither  more  nor  less.  And  I  don't 
believe  it  of  you.  I  don't  believe  you  would  allow  papa  or 
any  one  else  to  interfere,  now  the  thing  is  settled.  The 
Leslies  are  not  made  of  stuff  like  that." 

"That  is  all  very  well" — he  was  going  to  urge;  but 
the  impetuous  little  woman  would  have  her  say. 

"  What  is  more,  I  honor  her  highly  for  her  reserve. 
There  is  nothing  more  disgusting  than  to  see  young  people 
dawdling  and  fondling  in  the  presence  of  others.  You  don't 
want  to  be  Jenny  and  Jock  going  to  the  fair,  do  you?" 

"  Look  here,  Demosthenes  "  he  said  calmly.  "  You  are 
are  as  good  as  any  one  1  know  at  drawing  a  herring  across 
the  scent;  but  you  are  perfectly  aware  all  the  time  of  what 
1  mean." 

This  somewhat  disconcerted  her. 

"  Well  I  am — in  a  way,"  she  said  ;  and  her  tone  was  no\» 


140  YOLANDE. 

rather  one  of  appeal.  *'  But  don't  yon  see  what  life  on  board 
this  boat  is?  It  is  all  in  the  open.  You  can  not  expect  any 
girl  to  be  confidential  when  you  have  scarcely  ever  a  chance 
of  talking  to  her  by  herself.  You  must  make  allowances, 
Archie.  "l  do  know  what  you  mean  but — but  I  don't 
think  you  are  right;  and  I,  for  one,  am  very  glad  to  see  her 
so  light-hearted.  You  may  depend  on  it,  she  hasn't  sacrificed 
any  one  else  in  order  to  accept  you.  Her  cheerfulness 
promises  very  well  for  the  future — that  is  my  idea  of  it; 
it  shows  that  she  is  not  thinking  of  somebody  else,  as  girls 
sometimes  do,  even  after  they  are  engaged.  Of  course  it  isn't 
the  girl's  place  to  declare  her  sentiments ;  and  it  does  happen 
sometimes  that  there  is  some  one  they  would  rather  h.ive 
had  speak ;  and  of  course  there  is  an  occasional  backward 
glance,  even  after  marriage.  In  Yolande's  case  I  don't 
think  there  is.  One  cannot  be  certain  ;  but  I  don't  think 
there  is.  And  why  should  you  be  disappointed  because  she 
does  not  too  openly  show  her  preference  ?  Of  course  she 
can't — in  this  sort  of  life.  But  you  will  have  the  whole 
field  to  yourself.  You  have  no  rival ;  and  she  has  a  quickly 
grateful  nature.  You  will  have  her  all  to  yourself  in  the 
Highlands.  Here  she  is  waiting  on  her  father  half  the  time 
and  the  other  half  Jim  is  making  fun  with  her.  At  Inves- 
troy  it  will  be  quite  different." 

"  Well,  perhaps,  I  hope  so."  said  he. 

"Of  course  it  will !  You  will  have  her  all  to  yourself. 
Jim  will  be  away  at  his  fences  and  his  pheasant  coops,  and 
I  shall  have  plenty  to  do  in  the  house.  And  if  you  want  her 
to  quarrel  with  you,  I  daresay  she  will  oblige  you.  Most  girls 
can  manage  that.  But  the  first  thing  to  be  done,  Archie — 
in  sober  seriousness — is  to  buy  a  very  nice  engagement  ring 
for  her  at  Cairo  ;  and  that  will  be  always  reminding  her. 
And  I  do  hope  it  will  be  a  nice  one,  a  very  handsome  one 
indeed.  You  ought  not  to  consider  expense  on  such  an  oc- 
rasion.  If  you  haven't  quite  enough  money  with  you,  Jim 
will  lend  you  some.  It  is  certainly  odd  that  she  should 
have  no  family  jewelry  ;  but  it  is  all  the  greater  opportunity 
l'..r  you  to  give  her  something  very  pretty;  and  you  ought 
to  show  the  Winterbournes,  for  your  own  sake,  and  for  the 
Bake  of  our  family,  that  you  can  do  the  thing  handsomely." 

H<-  laughed. 

**  To  hear  you,  Polly,  one  would  think  you  were  an  old 
woman — a  thorough  schemer.  And  yet  how  long  is  it  since 


YO LANDS.  141 

your  chief   deiight   in  life  used   to   bo   to  go   taboggining 
down  the  face  Ben  dyers:?  " 

"  I  have  learned  a  little  common-sense  since  then,"  said 
pretty  Mrs.' Graham,  with  a  demure  smile. 

Well,  he  did  buy  a  very  handsome  ring  for  her  when 
they  got  to  Cairo  ;  and  Yolande  was  greatly  pleased  with  it, 
and  said  something  very  kind  and  pretty  to  him.     More- 
over, there   was  a  good  deal  of  Vjuying  going  on.      The 
gentlemen  at  the  Consulate  had  expressed  the  belief  that 
they  were  in  no  immediate  danger  of  having  their  throats 
cut ;   and   they  set  to  work  to   ransack  the  bazars   with   a 
right  good  will.     Nor  was  there   any  concealment  of  the 
intent  of  most  of  those  purchases.     Of  course  they  bought 
trinkets  and  bric-a-brac,  mostly  for    presentation  to  their 
friends ;  and  Mr.  Winterbourne  insisted  on  Mrs.  Graham 
accepting  from  him  a  costly  piece  of  Syrian  embroidery  on 
which  she  had  set  longing  eyes  during  their  previous  visit. 
But  the  great    mass  of  their   purchases — at  least  of  Mr.. 
Winterbourne's  purchases — was  clearly  and  obviously  meant 
for  the  decoration  of  Yolande's  future  home.     Under  Mrs. 
Graham's  guidance  he  bought  all   sorts  of  silk  stuffs,  em- 
broideries, and  draperies.      He   had  a  huge  case  packed 
with  hand-graven  brasswork — squat,   quaint    candlesticks, 
large  shields,  cups,  trays,  and  what  not;  and  once,  when  in 
an  old  curiosity  shop,  and  Yolande  happening  to  be  stand- 
ing outside,  Mrs.  Graham   ventured  to  remonstrate  with 
him  about  the  cost  of  some  Rhodion  dishes  he  had  just  said 
he  would  take,  he  answered  her  thus : — 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Graham,  when  in  Egypt  we  must  do  as 
the  Egyptians  do.  Don't  you  remember  the  bride  who 
came  down  to  the  river  bringing  with  her  her  bales  of 
carpets  and  her  drove  of  donkeys?  Yolande  must  have 
her  plenishing — that  is  a  good  Scotch  word  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  But  I  should  think  she  must  have  about  a  dozen  of 
those  shieks'  headdresses  already,"  said  pretty  Mrs. 
Graham.  "  And  we  don't  really  have  so  many  fancy-divss 
balls  in  Inverness.  Besides,  she  could  not  go  as  a  sheik." 

"Fancy-dress  balls?  Oh  no;  nothing  of  the  kind. 
They  will  do  for  a  dozen  things  in  a  room — to  be  pitched 
on  to  sofas  or  on  the  backs  of  chair — merely  patches  of  fine 
color." 

"  And  that,"  said  she,  with  a  smile,  looking  at  an  antique 
Persian  dagger  with  an  exquisitely  carved  handle  and 


142  YOLAA'DE. 

elaborately  inlaid  sheath — "of  what  use  will  that  be  in  the 
Highlands?" 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  he,  with  a  perfectly, grave  face, 
"  I  have  not  listened  to  your  husband  and  your  brother 
for  nothing.  Is  it  not  necessary  to  have  something  with 
which  to  gralloch  a  wounded  stag?  " 

"  To  gralloch  a  stag  with  a  beautiful  thing  like  that !  " 
jshe  exclaimed  in  horror. 

"  And  if  it  is  too  good  for  that,  can  not  Yolande  use  it 
as  a  paper-knife?  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  when  you 
and  your  husband  came  home  from  India  you  brought  back 
no  curiosities  with  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  did,  and  long  before  that  Jim  had  a 
whole  lot  of  things  from  the  Summer  Palace  at  Pekin  ;  but 
then  we  are  old  people.  These  things  are  too  expensive 
for  young  people  just  beginning." 

"The  bride  must  have  her  plenishing,"  said  he,  briefly; 
and  then  he  began  to  bargain  for  a  number  of  exceedingly 
beautiful  Damascus  tiles,  which  he  thought  would  just 
about  be  sufficient  for  the  construction  of  a  fireplace. 

Nor  were  these  people  the  least  bit  ashamed  when,  some 
days  after  this,  they  managed  to  smuggle  their  valuable 
cases  on  board  the  homeward-bound  steamer  without  pay- 
ing the  customs  dues.  Mr.  Winterbourne  declared  that  a 
nation  which  was  so  financially  mad  as  to  levy  an  eight  per 
cent  ad  valorem  duty  on  exports— or  rather  that  a  nation 
which  was  so  mad  as  to  tax  exports  at  all — ought  not  to  be 
there  encouraged  in  its  lunacy ;  and  he  further  consoled  his 
conscience  by  reflecting  that  so  far  from  his  party  having 
spoiled  the  Egyptians,  it  was  doubtless  all  the  other  way ; 
and  that  probably  some  £60  or  £70  of  English  money  had 
been  left  in  the  Cairene  bazars  which  had  no  right  to  be  there 
However,  he  was  content.  The  things  were  such  things  as 
lie  had  wanted;  he  had  got  them  as  cheaply  as  seemed 
possible;  he  would  have  paid  more  for  them  had  it  been 
necessary.  For,  he  said  to  himself,  even  the  rooms  of  a 
Highland  shooting-box  might  be  made  more  picturesque 
and  interesting  by  these  art  relics  of  other  and  former 
civilizations.  Ho  did  not  know  what  kind  of  home  the 
Master  of  Lynn  was  likely  to  provide  for  his  bride ;  but 
good  colors  and  good  materials  were  appropriate  anywhere; 
and  even  if  Yolande  and  her  husband  were  to  succeed  to 
the  possession  of  Lynn  Towers,  and  even  if  the  rooms  there 
(M  he  had  heard  was  the  case  at  Balmoral)  were  decorated 


YOLAKDE.  143 

delusively  in  Highland  fashion,  surely  they  could  set  aside 
60IUO  chamber  for  the  reception  of  those  draperies,  and  pot- 
teries, and  tiles,  and  what  not,  that  would  remind  Yolande 
of  her  visit  to  the  East.  The  bride  must  have  her  plenish- 
ing, he  said  to  himself  again  and  again.  But  they  bought 
no  jewelry  of  a  good  kind  in  Cairo  ;  Mr.  Winterbourne 
said  ho  would  rather  trust  Bond  Street  wares. 

And  at  last  the  big  steamer  slowly  sailed  away  from 
the  land,  and  they  had  begun  their  homeward  voyage. 
Mrs.  Graham  and  her  husband  were  on  the  hurricane-deck ; 
she  was  leaning  with  both  arms  on  the  rail. 

u  Good-by,  Egypt,'1  said  she,  as  she  regarded  the   pale 
yellow  country  under  the  pale  turquoise  sky.     "You  have 
been  very  kind  to  me.     You  have  made  me  a  most  charm- 
ing present  to  take  back  with  me  to  the  Highlands." 
"  What,  then  ?  "  said  her  husband. 
"  A  sister." 

"  She  isn't  your  sister  yet,"  he  said,  gruflly. 
"She  is;  and  she  will  be,"  she  answered,  confidently. 
uDo  you  know,  Jim,  I  had  my  hopes  and  wishes  all  tho 
way  out,  but  I  could  never  be  sure,  for  Archie  is  not  easily 
caught.  And  I  don't  think  she  distinguished  him  much 
from  the  others  on  the  voyage  here,  except  in  so  far  as  he 
was  one  of  our  party.  Sometimes  I  gave  it  up,  to  tell  you 
the  truth.  And  then  again  it  seemed  so  desirable  in  every 
way,  for  I  had  got  to  like  the  girl  myself,  and  I  could  seo 
that  Archie  would  be  safe  with  her ;  and  I  could  see  very 
well,  too,  that  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  his  eyes  open,  and 
that  he  seemed  very  well  disposed  toward  it." 

"  You  must  have  been  watching  everybody  like  a  cat,  " 
her  husband  said,  in  not  too  complimentary  fashion. 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  I  was  interested  ?"  she  said,  in 
protest.  "  Just  fancy  what  it  would  be  for  us  if  he  had 
brought  some  horrid  insufferable  creature  to  Lynn  !  I 
wouldn't  have  gone  near  the  place;  and  we  have  little 
enough  society  as  it  is.  But  that  life  on  the  Nile  did  it ; 
and  I  knew  it  would  the  moment  the  dahabeeyah  had  started 
away  from  Asyout — being  all  by  ourselves  like  that,  and  ho 
paying  her  little  attentions  all  day  long.  He  couldn't  help 
doing  that,  could  he? — it  wouldn't  have  been  civil.  And  I 
foresaw  what  the  end  would  be;  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it, 
and  quite  grateful  to  Egypt  and  the  Nile,  despite  all  tho 
flies  and  e  mosquitoes." 


144  YOLANDE. 

"  I  dare  say  it  will  turn  out  all  right,"  her  husband  said, 
indifferently. 

"  Well,  you  don't  seem  very  delighted,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?  Don't  you  think  it  is  a  very 
good  thing  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  do  think  it  is  a  good  thing.  I  have  no 
doubt  they  will  get  on  very  well  together.  And  in  other 
respects  the  match  will  be  an  advantageous  one." 

"  That  is  rather  cold  approval,"  said  she,  somewhat  dis- 
appointed. 

"  Oh  no,  it  isn't,"  said  he,  and  he  turned  from  looking  at 
the  retreating  land,  and  regarded  her.  "  I  say  I  don't  think 
he  could  have  chosen  better,  and  I  believe  they  will  be 
happy  enough  ;  and  they  ought  to  be  comfortable  and  well 
off.  Isn't  that  sufficient?  He  seems  fond  of  her;  I  think 
they  will  lead  a  very  comfortable  life.  What  more  ?  " 

11  But  there  is  something  behind  what  you  say,  Jim ;  I 
know  there  is,"  she  said. 

"And  if  there  is,  it  is  nothing  very  serious."  said  he; 
and  then  he  added,  with  a  curious  sort  of  smile:  "I  tell 
you  I  think  it  will  come  out  all  right;  I  am  sure  it  will. 
But  you  can't  deny  this,  Polly — well,  I  don't  know  how  to 
put  it.  I  may  be  mistaken.  I  haven't  as  sharp  eyes  as 
yours.  But  I  have  a  fancy  that  this  marriage,  though  I 
I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  a  happy  enough  one,  will  be,  on 
her  side  at  least — " 

"  What,  then  ?  "  said  his  wife,  peremptorily. 

"  I  don't  quite  know  whether  the  French  have  a  phrase 
for  it/'  said  he,  evasively, but  still  with  the  same  odd  smile 
on  his  face.  "  Probably  they  have  ;  they  ought  to  have,  at 
least.  At  any  rate,  I  have  a  kind  of  fancy — now  it's  noth- 
ing very  terrible — I  say  I  hayc  a  dim  kind  of  fancy  that,  on 
her  side,  the  marriage  will  be  something  that  might  be 
called  a  marriage  de  complaisance.  Oh,  you  needn't  go 
away  in  a  temper  !  There  have  been  worse  marriages  than 
a  marriage  de  complaisance." 


YOLANDE.  146 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

AMONG  THE  CLOUDS. 

FAR  up  in  the  wild  and  lonely  hills  that  form  the  back- 
bone as  it  wore,  of  eastern  Inverness-shire,  in  the  desert 
solitudes  where  the  Findhorn  and  the  Foyers  first  begin  to 
draw  their  waters  from  a  thousand  mystic  named  or  name- 
less rills,  stands  the  lodge  of  Allt-riam-Ba.  The  plain  little 
double-gabled  building,  with  its  dependence  of  kennels, 
stables,  coachhouse,  and  keeper's  bothy,  occupies  a  pro- 
montory formed  by  the  confluence  of  two  brawling  streams, 
and  faces  a  long,  wide,  beautiful  valley,  which  terminates 
in  the  winding  waters  of  a  loch.  It  is  the  only  sign  of  habi- 
tation in  the  strangely  silent  district,  and  it  is  the  last. 
The  rough  hill-road  leading  to  it  terminates  there.  From 
that  small  plateau  divergent  corries — softly  wooded  most 
of  them  are,  with  waterfalls  half  hidden  by  birch  and  rowan 
trees — stretch  up  still  further  into  a  sterile  wilderness  of 
moor  and  lochan  and  bare  mountain-top,  the  haunt  of  the 
ptarmigan,  the  red  deer,  and  the  eagle  ;  and  the  only  sound 
to  be  heard  in  these  voiceless  altitudes  is  the  monotonous 
murmur  of  the  various  burns — the  White  Winding  Water, 
the  Dun  Water,  the  Stream  of  the  Red  Lochan,  the  Stream 
of  the  Fairies,  the  Stream  of  the  Corrie  of  the  Horses,  as 
they  are  called  in  the  Gaelic. 

At  the  door  of  this  solitary  little  lodge,  on  a  morning 
toward  the  end  of  July,  Yolande  Winterbourne  was  stand- 
ing, engaged  in  buttoning  on  her  driving  gloves,  but  oc- 
casionally glancing  out  at  the  bewildering,  changeful, 
flashing,  and  gleaming  day  around  her.  For,  indeed,  since 
phe  had  come  to  live  at  Allt-nam-Ba  she  had  acquired  the 
conviction  that  the  place  seemed  very  close  up  to  the  sky, 
and  that  this  broad  valley,  walled  in  by  those  great  and 
silent  hills,  formed  a  sort  of  cauldron,  in  which  the  elements 
were  in  the  habit  of  mixing  up  weather  for  transference, 
to  the  wide  world  beyond.  At  this  very  moment,  for  ex- 
ample, a  continual  phantasmagoria  of  cloud  effects  was  pass- 
ing before  her  eyes.  Far  mountain-tops  grew  blacker  and 
blacker  in  shadow ;  then  the  gray  mist  of  the  rain  stole  slovrlr 


146  YOLANDE. 

across  ami  hi<l  them  from  view ;  then  they  re-appeared 
again,  and  a  sudden  shaft  of  sunlight  would  strike  on  the 
yellow-green  slopes  and  on  the  boulders  of  wet  and  glitter- 
ing granite.  But  she  had  this  one  consolation — that  the 
prospect  in  front  of  the  lodge  was  much  more  re-assuring 
than  that  behind.  Behind — over  the  mountainous  ranges 
of  the  moor — the  clouds  were  banking  up  in  a  heavy  and 
thunderous  purple;  and  in  the  ominous  silence  the  streams 
coming  down  from  the  corries  sounded  loud ;  whereas, 
away  before  her,  the  valley  that  led  down  to  the  haunts  of 
men  was  for  the  most  part  flooded  with  brilliant  sunlight, 
and  the  wide-swept  loch  was  of  the  darkest  and  Keenest 
blue.  Altogether  there  was  more  life  and  motion  here — 
more  color  and  brlliancy  and  change — than  in  the  pale  and 
placid  Egyptian  landscape  she  had  grown  accustomed  to ; 
but  there  was  also — she  might  have  been  pardoned  for 
thinking — for  one  who  was  about  to  drive  fourteen  miles 
in  a  dog-cart,  a  little  more  anxiety,  and  she  had  already  re- 
solved to  take  her  waterproof  with  her. 

However,  she  was  not  much  dismayed..  She  had  lived 
in  this  weather-brewing  cauldron  of  a  place  for  some  little 
time,  and  had  grown  familiar  with  its  threatening  glooms, 
which  generally  came  to  nothing,  and  with  its  sudden  and 
dazzling  glories,  which  laughed  out  a  welcome  to  the  lonely 
traveller  in  the  most  surprising  fashion.  When  the  dog- 
cart— a  four-wheeled  vehicle — was  brought  round,  she 
stepped  into  it  lightly,  and  took  the  reins  as  if  to  the  man- 
ner born,  though  she  had  never  handled  a  whip  until  Mrs. 
Graham  had  put  her  in  training  at  Inverstroy.  Then  there 
was  a  strict  charge  to  Jane  to  see  that  brisk  fires  were  kept 
burning  in  all  the  rooms  ;  for  although  it  was  still  July  the 
air  of  these  alpine  solitudes  was  sometimes  somewhat  keen. 
And  then — the  youthful  and  fair-haired  Sandy  having  got 
up  behind — she  released  the  brake;  and  presently  they 
were  making  their  way,  slowly  and  cautiously  at  first,  clown 
the  stony  path,  and  over  the  loud  .sounding  wooden  bridge 
that  here  spans  the  roaring  red-brown  waters  of  the  Allt- 
cam-Ban. 

But  when  once  they  were  over  the  bridge  and  into  the 
road  leading  down  the  wide  strath,  they  quickly  mended 
their  pace.  There  was  an  unusual  eagerness  and  bright- 
ness in  her  look.  Sandy  the  groom  knew  that  the  stout 
and  serviceable  oob  in  the  shafts  was  a  sure-footed  beast; 
but  the  road  was  of  the  roughest ;  and  he  could  not  under- 


YOLANDE.  147 

stand  why  the  young  English  lady,  who  was  generally  very 
cautious,  should  drive  so  fast.  Was  it  to  get  away  from 
the  black  thunder  masses  of  cloud  that  lay  over  the  moun- 
tain behind  them  ?  Here,  at  least,  there  seemed  no  danger 
of  any  storm.  The  sunlight  was  brilliant  on  the  wide  green 
pastures  and  on  the  flashing  waters  of  the  stream;  and  the 
steep  and  sterile  hillsides  were  shining  now  ;  and  the  loch 
far  ahead  of  them  had  its  wind-rippled  surface  of  a  blue 
like  the  heart  of  a  sapphire.  Yolande's  face  soon  showed 
the  influence  of  the  warm  sunlight  and  of  the  fresh  keen 
air;  and  her  eyes  were  glad,  though  they  seemed  busy 
with  other  things.  Indeed,  there  was  scarcely  any  sign  of 
life  around  to  attract  her  attention.  The  sheep  on  the  vast 
slopes,  where  there  was  but  a  scanty  pasturage  among  the 
blocks  of  granite,  were  as  small  gray  specks ;  an  eagle 
slowly  circling  on  motionless  wing  over  the  furthest  moun- 
tain range,  looked  no  bigger  than  a  hawk  ;  some  young 
falcons,  whose  cry  sounded  just  overhead  among  the  crags, 
were  invisible.  But  perhaps  she  did  not  heed  these  things 
much.  She  seemed  preoccupied,  and  yet  happy  and  light- 
hearted. 

When,  in  due  course  of  time,  they  reached  the  end  of 
the  valley,  and  got  on  to  the  road  that  wound  along  the 
wooded  shores  of  the  loch,  there  was  much  easier  going, 
and  Sandy  dismissed  his  fears.  It  was  a  pretty  loch,  this 
stretch  of  wind-stirred  blue  water,  for  the  hills  surrounding 
it  were  somewhat  less  sterile  than  those  at  Allt-nam-Ba  ; 
here  and  there  the  banks  were  fringed  with  hazel ;  and  at 
the  lower  end  of  it,  where  the  river  flowing  from  it  wound 
through  a  picturesque  ravine,  were  the  dark  green  planta- 
tions surrounding  Lynn  Towers.  They  had  driven  for 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  or  so  by  the  shores  of  the  lake,  when 
Yolando  fancied  she  heard  some  clanking  noise  proceeding 
from  the  other  side;  and  thereupon  she  instantly  asked 
Sandy  what  that  could  be,  for  any  sound  save  the  bleating 
of  sheep  or  the  croak  of  a  raven  was  an  unusual  thing  here. 
The  young  Highland  lad  strained  his  eyes  in  the  direction 
of  the  distant  hillside,  and  at  last  he  said, — 

"  Oh  yes,  I  see  them  now.  They  will  be  the  men  taking 
up  more  fencing  to  the  forest.  Duncan  was  speaking  about 
that,  madam." 

(For  he  was  a  polite  youth,  as  far  as  his  English  went.) 

"  I  can't  see  anything,  Sandy,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  If  Miss   Winterbourne   would  be  looking  about  half- 


148  YOLANDE. 

way  up  the  hill — they  are  by  the  side  of  the  gray  corria 
now.*' 

Then  he  added,  after  a  second, — 

"  I  am  thinking  that  will  be  the  Master  at  the  top." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Master  of  Lynn  ?  "  she  said  quickly. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  Well,  your  eyes  are  sharper  than  mine,  Sandy.  I  can 
see  that  black  spook  on  the  sky-line,  but  that  is  all." 

"  He  is  waving  a  handkerchief  now,"  said  Sandy  with 
much  coolness. 

"  Oh,  that  is  impossible.  How  could  he  make  us  out  at 
this  distance  ?" 

"  The  Master  will  know  there  is  no  other  carriage  than 
this  one  coining  from  Allt-nam-Ba." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  she  taking  out  her  handkerchief 
and  giving  it  a  little  shake  or  two  in  the  sunlight.  "  1  will 
take  the  chance ;  but  you  know,  Sandy,  it  is  more  likely  to 
be  one  of  the  keepers  waving  his  hand  to  you." 

"  Oh  no,  madam ;  it  is  the  Master  himself;  I  am  sure  of 
it.  He  was  up  at  the  bothy  yesterday  evening  to  see  Dun- 
can about  the  gillies,  and  he  was  saying  something  about 
the  new  fence  above  the  loch." 

"  Was  Mr.  Leslie  at  Allt-nam-Ba  last  night?"  said  she 
in  surprise. 

"  Oh  yes,  madam." 

"  And  he  left  no  message  for  me?" 

"  1  think  there  was  not  any  message.  But  he  was  ask- 
ing when  Miss  Winterbourne's  father  was  coming  and  I 
told  him  that  I  was  to  drive  Miss  Winterbourne  into 
Foyers  this  morning." 

11  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  she  said,  with  much  content. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  lower  end  of  the  lake  ; 
and  when  they  had  crossed  the  wooden  bridge  over  the 
river  and  ascended  a  bit  of  a  hill,  they  found  themselves 
opposite  Lynn  Towers — a  large,  modern  building,  which, 
with  its  numerous  conservatories,  stood  on  a  level  piece  of 
ground  on  the  other  side  of  the  ravine.  Then  on  again  ; 
and  in  time  they  beheld  stretching  out  before  them  a  wide 
and  variegated  plain,  looking  rich  and  fertile  and  cultivated 
after  the  mountainous  solitudes  they  had  left  behind,  while 
all  around  them  were  hanging  woods,  with  open  slopes  of 
j>at»ture,  and  rills  running  down  to  the  river  in  the  valley 
I'one.'ith.  As  they  drove  on  and  down  into  that  smiling 
and  ishining  country,  the  day  grew  more  and  more  brilliant. 


YOLANDR.  149 

The  breaks  of  blue  in  the  sky  grew  broader,  the  silver-gleam- 
ing clouds  went  slowly  by  to  the  east,  and  the  air,  which 
was  much  warmer  down  here,  was  perfumed  with  the  deli- 
cate resinous  odor  of  the  sweet-gale.  Wild  flowers  grew 
more  luxuriantly.  Here  and  there  a  farmhouse  appeared, 
with  fields  of  grain  encroaching  on  the  moorland.  And  at 
last,  after  some  miles  of  this  gradual  descent,  Yolande  ar 
rived  at  a  little  sprinkling  of  houses  sufficient  in  number 
— though  much  scattered  among  the  fields — to  be  called 
a  village,  and  drew  up  at  the  small  wooden  gate  of  a  modest 
little  mansion,  very  prettily  situated  in  the  midst  of  a 
garden  of  roses,  columbine,  nasturtiums,  and  other  cottage 
favorites. 

No  sooner  had  the  carriage  stopped  than  instantly  the 
door  was  opened  by  a  smiling  and  comely  dame,  with  sil- 
ver-gray hair,  and  pleasant,  shrewd  gray  eyes,  who  came 
down  the  garden  path.  She  was  neatly  and  plainly  dressed 
in  a  housekeeper-looking  kind  of  costume,  but  her  face  was 
refined  and  intelligent,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  motherli- 
ness,  in  the  look  with  which  she  regarded  the  young  En- 
glish lady. 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  meant  to  scold  you,  Mrs  Bell,  for 
robbing  your  garden  again  ?  "  said  Yolande.  *'  But  thia 
time — no — I  am  not  going  to  scold  you;  I  can  only  thank 
you ;  for  my  papa  is  coming  to-day ;  and  oh,  you  should 
see  how  pretty  the  rooms  are  with  the  flowers  you  sent  me  ! 
But  not  again  now — not  any  more  destroying  the  garden." 
"  Dear  me,  and  is  your  papa  coming  the  day  ?  "  said  the 
elderly  woman  in  a  slow,  persuasive,  gentle,  south-country 
sort  of  fashion. 

"  I  am  going  now  to  meet  him  at  the  steamer,"  said 
Yolande  quickly.  "  That  is  why — " 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Bell,  "  that  is  just  a  most  ex- 
traordinary piece  of  good  luck  ;  for  I  happen  to  have  a  pair 
of  the  finest  and  plumpest  young  ducklings  that  ever  I  set 
eyes  on." 

"  No,  no ;  no,  no,  no,"  Yolande  cried,  laughing  ;  "  1  can- 
not  have  any  more  excuses  for  these  kindnesses  and  kind 
nesses.  Every  day  since  I  came  here — every  day  a  fresh 
excuse — and  always  the  boy  coming  with  Mrs.  Bell's  com 
pliments — " 

w  Dinna  ye  think  I  know  perfectly  well,"  said  the  other, 
in  a  tone  of  half-indignant  remonstrance  "  what  it  is  for  a 
young  leddy  to  be  trying  housekeeping  in  a  place  like  yon  ? 


150  YOLA.VDE. 

So  there's  not  to  be  another  word  about  it.  Ye'll  jist  stop 
for  a  minute  as  ye're  going  back,  and  take  the  ducklings  wi' 
ye  ;  ay,  and  I've  got  a  nice  bunch  or  two  o'  fresh-cut  lettuce 
for  ye,  and  a  few  carrots  and  turnips — I  declare  it's  a 
shame  to  see  the  things  wasting  in  the  gairden,  for  we  canna 
use  the  half  of  them." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  simpler  for  you  to  give  me  the  garden 
nnd  the  house  and  everything  all  at  once?"  said  Yolaiide 
"  Well,  now,  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Melville." 

"  Ye  canna  do  that,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"Why?"  said  the  girl,  with  something  of  a  stare,  for 
she  had  not  been  in  the  habit  of  having  her  requests  refused 
up  in  this  part  of  the  world. 

"  He  is  at  his  work,"  said  the  elderly  dame,  glancing  at 
a  small  building  that  stood  at  right  angles  with  the  house. 
"  Do  ye  think  I  would  disturb  him  when  he  is  at  his  work? 
Do  ye  think  I"  want  him  to  send  me  about  my  business  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  tyrant !  "  exclaimed  Yolande.  "  Never 
mind,  then ;  I  wanted  to  thank  him  for  sending  me  the 
trout.  Now  T  will  not.  Well,  good-by,  Mrs.  Bell.  I  will 
take  the  vegetables,  and  be  very  grateful  to  you,  but  not 
the  ducklings." 

"  Ye'll  just  take  the  ducklings,  as  I  say,  like  a  sensible 
young  leddy,"  said  Mrs.  Bell,  with  emphasis;  "  and  there 
is  not  to  be  another  word  about  it," 

So  on  she  drove  again,  on  this  bright  and  beautiful  July 
day,  through  a  picturesque  and  rocky  and  rugged  country, 
until  in  time  she  reached  the  end  of  her  journey — the  charm- 
ing little  hotel  that  is  perched  high  amid  the  woods  over- 
looking Loch  Ness,  within  sound  of  the  thundering  Foyers 
Water.  And  as  she  had  hurried  mainly  to  give  the  cob  a 
long  mid-day  rest — the  steamer  not  being  due  till  the 
afternoon — she  now  found  herself  with  some  hours'  leisure 
at  her  disposal,  which  she  spent  in  idly  wandering  through 
the  umbrageous  woods,  startling  many  a  half-tame  pheasant, 
but  never  corning  on  the  real  object  of  her  quest,  a  roe-deer. 
And  then,  at  last,  she  heard  the  throbbing  of  paddle-wheel* 
in  the  intense  silence,  and  just  about  as  quick  as  any  roe- 
deer  she  made  her  way  down  through  the  bracken  and  the 
bushes,  and  went  right  out  to  the  end  of  the  little  pier. 

She  made  him  out  at  once,  even  at  that  distance ;  for 
though  he  was  not  a  tall  man,  his  sharp-featured,  sun- 
reddened  face  and  silver-white  hair  made  him  easily  reo- 
ogniiable.  And  of  course  she  was  greatly  delighted  when 


YOLANDE.  151 

lie  c.i mo  ashore,  and  excited  too ;  and  she  herself  would 
have  carried  gun-cases,  fishing-baskets,  and  what  not  to  the 
dog-cart,  had  not  the  boots  from  the  hotel  interfered.  And 
she  had  a  hundred  eager  questions  and  assurances,  but 
would  pay  no  heed  to  his  remonstrance  about  the  risk  of 
her  driving. 

"  Why,  papa,  I  drove  every  day  at  Inverstroy ! "  she 
exclaimed,  as  they  briskly  set  out  for  AUt-nam-Ba. 

"  I  suppose  the  Grahams  were  very  kind  to  you?  "  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes." 

"  And  the  Master,  how  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  I  believe.  Of  course  I  have  not  seen 
him  since  Mrs.  Graham  left.  But  he  has  made  all  the  ar- 
rangments  for  you — ponies,  panniers,  everything  quite 
arranged.  And  he  left  the  rifle  at  the  bothy  ;  and  I  have 
the  cartridges  all  right  from  Inverness — oh  yes,  you  will 
find  everything  prepared  ;  and  there  is  no  want  of  provision, 
for  Mr.  Melville  sends  me  plenty  of  trout,  and  Duncan  goes 
up  the  hill  now  and  again  for  a  hare,  and  they  are  sending 
me  a  sheep  from  the  farm — " 

"  A  sheep  !  " 

"  Duncan  said  it  was  the  best  way,  to  have  a  sheep 
killed.  And  we  have  new-laid  eggs  and  fresh  milk  every 
day.  And  every  one  is  so  kind  and  attentive,  papa,  that 
whatever  turns  out  wrong,  that  will  be  my  fault  in  not  ar- 
ranging properly — " 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  said  he,  good-humoredly. 
"  I  want  to  hear  about  yourself,  Yolande.  What  do  you 
think  of  Lord  Lynn  and  his  sister,  now  that  you  have  seen 
something  more  of  them  ?  " 

This  question  checked  her  volubility,  and  for  a  second 
a  very  odd  expression  came  over  her  face. 

"  They  are  very  serious  people,  papa,"  said  she  with 
some  caution.  '.'  And — and  very  pious,  I  think." 

"  But  I  suppose  you  are  as  pious  as  they  can  be  ?  "  her 
father  said.  "  That  is  no  objection." 

She  was  silent. 

"  And  those  other  people — the  old  woman  who  pretends 
to  be  a  housekeeper,  and  is  a  sort  of  Good  Fairy  in  disguise 
and  the  penniless  young  laird  who  has  no  land — " 

Instantly  her  face  brightened  up. 

"  Oh,  he  is  the  most  extraordinary  person,  papa — a 
magician !  I  can  not  describe  it ;  you  must  see  for  your- 


152  YOLANDE. 

self ;  but  really  it  is  wonderful.  He  has  a  stream  to  work 
for  him — yes,  for  Mrs.  Graham  and  I  went  and  visited  it — 
climbing  away  up  the  hill — and  there  was  the  water-wheel 
at  work  in  the  water,  and  a  hut  close  by,  and  there  were 
copper  wires  to  take  the  electricity  away  down  to  the 
house,  where  he  has  a  store  of  it.  It  is  a  genie  for  him  ; 
he  makes  it  light  the  lamps  in  the  house,  in  the  schoolroom, 
and  it  makes  electrotype  copies  for  him ;  it  works  a  lathe 
for  turning  wood — oh,  I  can't  tell  you  all  about  it.  And 
he  has  been  so  kind  to  me !  but  mostly  in  secret,  so  that 
I  could  not  catch  him  to  thank  him.  How  could  I  know  ? 
I  complain  to  Mrs.  Bell  that  it  is  a  trouble  to  send  to 
Inverness  for  some  one  to  set  the  clock  going:  the  next 
morning — it  is  all  right!  It  goes;  nothing  wrong  at  all! 
Then  the  broken  window  in  the  drawing-room  :  Mrs. 
Graham  and  I  drive  away  to  Fort  Augustus ;  when  I  come 
back  in  the  evening  there  is  a  new  pane  put  in.  Then  the 
filter  in  the  water-tank  up  the  hill — " 

"  But  what  on  earth  is  this  wonderful  Jack-of  all 
trades  doing  here?  Why,  you  yourself  wrote  to  me, 
Yolande,  that  he  had  taken  the  Snell  Exhibition  and  the 
Ferguson  Scholarship,  and  blazed  like  a  comet  through 
Balliol ;  and  now  I  find  him  tinkering  at  window-pane*." 
She  laughed. 

"  I  think  he  works  very  hard  :  he  says   he   is  very  lazy. 
He  is  very  fond  of  fishing,  he   is  not   well  off,  and   here  he 
is  permitted  to  fish  in  the  lakes  far   away  among  the  hills 
that    few   people  will  take   the  trouble   to   go   to.     Then 
naturally  he  has  much  interest  in  this  neighborhood,  where 
once  his  people  were   the  great   family ;  and   those   living 
here  have   a  great  respect  for  him  ;  and  he  has   built   a 
school,  and  teaches  in  it — it  is  a  free   school,  no   charge   at 
all,"  Yolande,  added,  hastily.  "  That  is  Mrs.  Bell's  kindness, 
the  building  of  the   school.     Then   he  makes   experiments 
and  discoveries :  is  it  not   enough  of  an   occupation   when 
every  one  is  talking  about  the  electric  light?  Also   he  is  a 
great  botanist;  and  when  it  is  not  schooltime   he   is   away 
up  in  the  hills  after  rare  plants,  or  to  fish.     Oh,  it  is  terrible 
the  loneliness  of  the  small  lakes  up  in  the   hills,   Mr.  Leslie 
has  told  me ;  no  road,  no  track,  no  life  anywhere.     And  the 
long  hours  of  climbing :  oh,  I  am   sure  I  have  been  sorry 
sometimes — many  times — when  day  after   dny  I   receive   a 
present  of  trout  and  a  message,  to  think  of  the  long  climb- 
ing and  the  labor — " 


YOLANDE.  153 

"  But  why  doesn't  he  fish  in  the  loch  at  All-nam-Ba  ?" 
her  father  exclaimed.  "That  can't  be  so  difficult  to  get 
at." 

"  He  had  permission  last  year,"  said  she. 

"Why  not  this?" 

"  He  thought  it  would  be  more  correct  to  wait  for  you 
to  give  permission." 

<4  Well,  now,  Yolande,  "said  he,  peevishly,  *'  how  could 
you  be  so  stupid  ?IIere  is  a  fellow  who  shows  you  all  sorts 
of  kindnesses,  and  you  haven't  enough  common-sense  to 
offer  him  a  day's  fishing  in  the  loch  !" 

"  It  was  not  my  affair,"  she  said,  cheerfully.  "  That 
was  for  you  to  arrange." 

"  Waiting  for  permission  to  fish  in  a  loch  like  that !" 
her  fathers  said,  more  good-naturedly,  for  indeed  his  discon- 
tent with  Yolande  rarely  lasted  for  more  than  about  the 
fifteenth  part  of  a  second.  "  Leslie  told  me  the  loch  would 
be  infinitely  improved  if  five-sixths  of  the  fish  were  netted 
out  of  it ;  the  trout  would  run  to  a  better  size.  However, 
Miss  Yolande,  since  you've  treated  him  badly,  you  must 
make  amends.  You  must  ask  him  to  dinner." 

"  Oh  yes,  papa,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  that,"  she  said, 
blithely. 

"  If  the  house  is  anywhere  near  the  road,  we  can  pick 
him  up  as  we  go  along.  Then  I  suppose  you  could  send  a 
message  to  the  Master ;  he  is  not  likely  to  have  an  engage- 
ment." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  for  to-night,"  she  said,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  I  do,  indeed.     Why  not  ?  " 

"  What !  the  first  night  that  we  have  to  ourselves  to- 
gether, to  think  of  inviting  strangers  ?  " 

'*  Strangers  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  That  is  an  odd  phrase  to 
be  used  by  a  young  lady  who  wears  an  engaged  ring." 

"  But  I  am  not  married,  yet,  papa,"  said  she,  flushing 
slightly.  '«  I  am  only  engaged.  When  I  an  a  wife,  it  may 
be  different ;  but  at  present  I  am  your  daughter." 

"  And  you  would  rather  that  we  had  this  first  evening 
all  by  ourselves  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  wish  papa,"  said  she,  coolly;  "  it  is  a  down- 
right certainty.  There  is  only  dinner  for  two,  and  there 
will  be  only  dinner  for  two,  and  these  two  are  you  and  I. 
Do  you  forget  that  I  am  mistress  of  the  house  ?  " 

Well,  he  seemed  nothing  loath ;  the  prospect  did  not  at 


154  YOLANDE. 

all  overcloud  his  face,  as  they  drove  away  through  thii 
smiling  arid  cheerful  and  picturesque  country,  with  the 
severer  altitude  beyond  gradually  coming  into  view. 

The  same  night  Yolande  and  her  father  set  out  for  an 
arm-in-arm  stroll  away  down  the  broad  silent  valley.  It 
was  late;  but  still  there  was  a  bewilderment  of  light  all 
around  them,  for  in  the  northwestern  heavens  the  wan 
twilight  still  lingered,  while  behind  them,  in  the  southeast, 
the  moon  had  risen,  and  now  projected  their  shadows  before 
them  as  they  walked  Yolande  was  talkative  and  joyous — 
the  silence  and  the  loneliness  of  the  place  did  not  seem  to 
oppress  her;  and  he  was  always  a  contented  listener.  They 
walked  away  along  the  strath,  under  the  vast  solitude  of 
the  hills,  and  by  the  side  of  this  winding  and  murmuring 
stream,  and  in  time  they  reached  the  loch.  For  a  wonder 
it  was  perfectly  still.  The  surface  was  like  glass,  and  those 
portions  that  were  in  shadow  were  black  as  jet.  But  these 
were  not  many,  for  the  moonlight  was  shining  adown  this 
wide  space,  touching  softly  the  overhanging  crags  and  the 
woods,  and  showing  them,  as  they  got  on  still  further,  above 
the  loch  and  the  bridge  and  the  river,  and  standing  silent 
amid  the  silent  plantations,  the  pale  white  walls  of  Lynn. 

"  And  so  you  think,  Yolande,"  said  he,  "  that  you  wil) 
be  quite  happy  in  living  in  this  solitary  place?" 

"  If  you  were  always  to  be  away — oh  no  ;  but  with  you 
coming  to  see  me  sometimes,  as  now — oh,  yes  yes:  why 
not?"  said  she,  cheerfulfy. 

44  You  wouldn't  mind  being  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  ?"  she  said.  "  What  is  it  to  me  ?  I  know  so  few 
people  elsewhere." 

"  It  would  be  a  peaceful  life,  Yolande,"  said  he, 
thoughtfully.  "  Would  it  not  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,7'  she  answered,  brightly.  "  And  then,  papa, 
you  would  take  Allt-nam-Ba  for  the  whole  year,  every  year, 
nnd  not  merely  have  a  few  weeks'  shooting  the  autumn. 
Why  should  it  not  be  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in?  Could 
anything  be  more  beautiful  than  to-night — and  the  solitude? 
And  one  or  two  of  the  people  are  so  kind.  But  this  I  must 
tell  you,  papa,  that  the  one  who  has  been  kindest  to  me 
herd  is  not  Lord  Lynn,  nor  his  sister,  Mrs.  Colquhoun,  nor 
any  one  of  them,  but  Mrs.  Bell ;  and  the  first  chance, 
when  she  is  sure  not  to  meet  Mr.  Melville,  or  Mr.  Leslie — 
for  she  is  very  particular  about  that,  and  pretends  only  to 


YOLANDE.  155| 

be  a  housekeeper — I  am  going  to  bring  her  up  to  Allt-nam- 
Ba ;  and  you  will  see  how  charming  she  is,  and  how  good 
and  wise  and  gentle,  and  how  proud  she  is  of  Mr.  Melville. 
As  for  him,  he  laughs  at  her.  He  laughs  at  every  one. 
He  has  no  respect  for  any  one  more  than  another ;  he  talks 
to  Lord  Lynn  as  he  talks  to  Duncan — perhaps  with  more 
kindness  to  Duncan.  Rich  or  poor,  it  is  no  difference — no, 
he  does  not  seem  to  understand  that  there  is  a  difference,  j 
And  all  the  people,  the  shepherds,  the  gillies,  arid  Mrs. 
Macdougal  at  the  farm — every  one  thinks  there  is  no  one 
like  him.  Perhaps  I  have  learned  a  little  from  him,  even 
in  so  short  a  time  ;  it  may  be.  I  do  not  care  that  Mrs. 
Bell  has  been  a  cook ;  that,  is  nothing  to  me  ;  I  see  that  she 
is  a  good  woman,  and  clever,  and  kind ;  and  I  will  be  her 
friend  if  she  pleases  ;  and  I  know  that  he  gives  her  more 
honor  than  to  any  one  else,  though  he  does  not  say  much. 
No,  he  is  too  sarcastic ;  and  not  very  courteous.  Some- 
times ho  is  almost  rude ;  but  he  is  a  little  more  considerate 
with  old  people — " 

"  Look  here,  Yolande,"  her  father  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  All  this  afternoon,  and  all  this  evening,  and  all  down  this 
valley,  you  have  done  nothing  but  talk  about  this  wonder- 
ful Mr.  Melville,  although  you  say  you  have  scarcely  ever 
seen  him." 

"  No,  no,  no,  papa.  I  said,  when  he  had  done  any  kind- 
ness to  me,  he  had  kept  out  of  the  way,  and  I  had  no  chance 
to  thank  him." 

"  Very  well :  all  your  talking  has  produced  nothing  but 
a  jumble.  I  want  to  see  this  laird  without  land,  this 
Balliol  clockmaker,  this  fisherman  schoolmaster,  this  idol 
who  is  worshipped  by  the  natives.  Let  me  see  what  he  is 
like,  tirst  of  all.  Ask  him  to  dinner,  and  the  Master  too. 
We  have  few  neighbors,  and  we  must  make  the  most  of 
them.  So  now  let  us  get  back  home  again,  child  ;  though 
it  is  almost  a  shame  to  go  indoors  on  such  a  night.  And 
you  don't  really  think  you  would  regret  being  shut  off 
from  the  world,  Yolande,  in  this  solitude  ?  " 

She  was  looking  along  the  still  loch,  and  the  wooded 
shores,  and  the  moonlit  crags  that  were  mirrored  in  the 
glassy  water ;  and  her  eyes  wore  happy  enough. 

"  Is  it  not  like  fairyland,  papa  ?  How  could  one  regret 
living  in  such  a  beautiful  place?  Besides,"  she  added, 
cheerfully,  "have  I  not  promised? "  And  therewith  sho 


156  YOLANDE. 

hold  out  her  ungloved  hand  for  a  second  ;  and  be  under- 
stood what  she  meant ;  for  he  saw  the  three  diamonds  on 
her  engagement  ring  clear  in  the  moonlight. 


CHAPTER   XX. 
"MELVILLE'S  WELCOME  HOME." 

AMID  all  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  preparing  for  the 
Twelfth,  Yolande  and  her  affairs  seemed  half  forgotten ;  and 
she,  for  one,  was  glad  to  forget  them ;  for  she  rejoioed  in 
the  activity  of  the  moment,  and  was  proud  to  see  that  the 
wheels  of  the  little  household  worked  very  smoothly.  And 
long  ago  she  had  mastered  all  the  details  about  the  luncheon 
to  be  sent  up  the  hill,  and  the  dinner  for  the  gillies,  and  what 
not ;  she  had  got  her  instructions  from  Mrs.  Graham  at  In- 
verstroy. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  however,  the  Master  of  Lynn 
wrote  the  following  note  to  his  sister : 

"  LYNN  TOWERS,  Augu&tj  8. 

"  DEAR  POLLY, — I  wish  to  goodness  you  would  come 
over  here  for  a  couple  of  days  and  put  matters  straight.  I 
am  helpless.  I  go  for  a  little  quiet  to  Allt-nam-Ba.  I  would 
ask  Jack  Melville  to  interfere,  but  he  is  so  blunt  tongued  he 
would  most  likely  make  the  row  worse.  Of  course  it's  all 
Tabby :  if  ever  I  succeed  to  Lynn,  won't  I  make  the  old 
cat  skip  out  of  that  1  I  expected  my  father  to  be  cross  when 
I  suggested  something  about  Yolande,  but  I  thought  he 
would  see  the  reasonableness,  etc.  But  Tabby  heard  of  it, 
:md  then  it  was  all  'alliance  with  demagogues,'  'disgrace 
of  an  ancient  family,'  'the  Leslies  selling  their  honor  for 
money,  and  other  rubbish.  I  don't  mind.  It  doesn't  hurt 
me.  I  have  not  knocked  about  with  Jack  Melville  for 
nothing ;  I  can  distinguish  between  missiles  that  are  made 
of  air,  and  pass  by  you,  and  missiles  that  are  made  of  wood, 
and  can  cut  your  head  open.  But  the  immediate  thing  is 
this  :  they  won't  call  on  the  Winterbournes,  and  this  is  not 
only  a  gross  discourtesy,  but  very  impolitic.  I  should  not 
at  all  wonder,  if  Mr.  Winterbourne  has  a  good  season  this 


YOLANDE.  157 

year,  if  he  were  to  take  a  lease  of  Allt-nam-Ba ;  and  Duncan 
is  reckoning  on  1*200  brace.  As  a  good  tenant  my  father 
ought  to  call  on  Mr.  Winterbourne,  if  for  nothing  else. 
And  of  course  matters  can  not  remain  as  they  are.  There 
must  be  an  explanation.  What  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  of 
is  that  Yolande  may  meet  Tabby  some  day,  and  that  Tabby 
may  say  something.  At  present  they  have  only  met  driving 
— I  mean  since  you  left— so  that  was  only  a  case  of  bowing, 
To  hear  Tabby  talk  would  make  you  laugh  ;  but  it  makes 
me  rather  wild,  I  confess ;  and  though  my  father  says  less, 
or  nothing  at' all,  I  can  see  that  what  she  says  is  making  him 
more  and  more  determined.  So  do  come  along,  and  bring 
some  common-sense  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  house.  What 
on  earth  has  politics  got  to  do  with  Yolande  ?  Come  and 
fight  it  out  with  Tabby. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"  A  LESLIE." 

This  was  the  answer  that  arrived  on  the  evening  of  the 
next  day : 

"  INVERSTKOY,  August  9.    ;%j 

'*  DEAR  AKCHIE, — You  must  have  gone  mad.  We  have 
visitors  in  the  house  already,  and  by  the  day  after  to-morrow 
we  shall  be  full  to  the  hall  door.  It  is  quite  absurd ;  Jim 
has  not  asked  a  single  bachelor  this  year,  and  every  man 
who  is  coming  is  bringing  his  wife.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  thing? — really  I  can't  understand  why  women  should 
be  such  fools  :  not  a  single  invitation  refused  !  But  there 
is  one  thing — they  will  get  a  good  dose  of  grouse  talk  before 
they  go  south,  and  if  they  are  not  heartily  sick  of  hearing 
about  stags  it  will  be  a  wonder.  So  you  see,  my  dear  Mas- 
ter, you  must  worry  out  of  that  muddle  in  your  own  way ; 
and  I  have  no  doubt  you  got  into  it  through  temper,  and 
being  uncivil  to  Aunt  Colquhoun.  It  is  impossible  for  me 
to  leave  Inverstroy  at  present.  But  whatever  you  do 
don't  get  spiteful,  and  go  and  run  away  with  Shena  Van. 

"  Your  affectionate  sister, 

"  FOLLY." 

Well,  it  was  not  until  the  eve  of  the  Twelfth  that  Yo- 
lande gave  her  first  dinner-party,  the  delay  having  chiefly 
been  occasioned  by  their  having  to  wait  for  some  wine  fro nl 
Inverness.  This  was  a  great  concession  on  the  part  of  her 
father;  but  when  he  discovered  that  she  was  desperately 


158  YOLANDE, 

afraid  that  her  t\vo  guests,  the  Master  of  Lyrm  and  Mr. 
Melville,  would  imagine  that  the  absence  of  wine  from  the 
table  was  due  to  her  negligence  and  stupidity  as  a  house- 
keeper, he  yielded  at  once.  Nay,  in  case  they  might  throw 
any  blame  on  her  of  any  kind,  her  father  himself  wrote  to 
a  firm  in  Inverness,  laying  strict  injunctions  on  them  as  to 
brands  and  so  forth.  All  of  which  trouble  was  quite  thrown 
away,  as  it  turned  out,  for  both  the  young  men  seemed  quite 
indifferent  about  drinking  anything;  but  the  wine  was 
there  and  Yolande  could  not  be  blamed  :  that  was  his  chief 
and  only  consideration. 

Just  before  dinner  Mr.  Winterbourne,  Yolande,  and  the 
Master  were  standing  outside  the  lodge,  looking  down  the 
wide  glen,  which  was  now  flooded  with  sunset  light.  Young 
Leslie's  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  a  deer-stalker ;  the  slightest 
movement  anywhere  instantly  attracted  them;  and  when 
two  sheep — little  dots  they  were,  at  the  far  edge  of  the  hill 
just  above  the  lodge — suddenly  ceased  grazing  and  lifted 
their  heads,  he  knew  there  must  be  some  one  there.  The 
next  moment  a  figure  appeared  on  the  sky-line. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  Jack  Melville,"  he  said,  peevishly. 
"  I  wish  he  wouldn't  come  across  the  forest  when  he  is  up 
at  his  electric  boxes." 

"But  does  he  do  harm?"  said  Yolande.  "He  cannot 
shoot  deer  with  copper  wire." 

"  Oh,  he's  all  over  the  place,"  said  the  Master  of  Lynn. 
"And  there  isn't  a  keeper  or  a  watcher  who  will  remon- 
strate with  him,  and  of  course  I  can't.  He's  always  after 
his  botany,  or  his  fishing,  or  something.  The  best  thing 
about  it  is  that  he  is  a  capital  hand  to  have  with  you  if 
there  are  any  stray  deer  about,  and  you  want  to  have  a  shot 
without  disturbing  the  herd.  He  knows  their  ways  most 
wonderfully,  and  can  tell  you  the  track  they  are  certain  to 
take." 

Meanwhile  the  object  of  these  remarks  was  coming 
down  the  hillside  at  a  swinging  pace,  and  very  soon  he  had 
crossed  the  little  bridge,  and  was  coining  up  the  path,  her- 
alding his  arrival  with  a  frank  and  careless  greeting  to  his 
friends.  He  w:is  ;i  rather  tall,  lean,  large-boned,  and  pow- 
erful-Looking man  of  about  eight  and  twenty ;  somewhat 
pale  in  face,  seeing  that  he  lived  so  much  out  of  doors  ;  his 
hirir  a  raven  black:  his  eyes  gray,  penetrating,  and  stead- 
fast; his  mouth  firm  and  yet  mobile  and  expressive  at 
times ;  his  forehead  square  rather  than  lofty ;  his  voice,  a 


YOLANDE.  159 

chest  voice,  was  heard  in  pleasant  and  well-modulated  En- 
glish :  he  had  not  acquired  any  trace  of  the  high  falsetto 
that  prevails  (or  prevailed  a  few  years  ago)  among  the 
young  men  at  Oxford.  As  for  his  manner,  that  was  char- 
acterized chiefly  by  a  curious  simplicity  and  straightfor- 
wardness, lie  seemed  to  have  no  time  to  be  self-conscious. 
When  he  spoke  to  anyone,  it  was  without  thought  or  heed 
of  any  bystander.  With  that  one  person  he  had  to  do. 
Him  or  her  he  seized,  with  look  and  voice;  and  even  after 
the  most  formal  introduction  he  would  speak  to  you  in  the 
most  simple  and  direct  way,  as  if  life  were  not  long  enough 
to  be  wasted  in  conventionalities,  as  if  truth  were  the  main 
thing,  as  if  all  human  beings  were  perfectly  alike,  and  as  if 
there  was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  this  new  stranger 
should  not  be  put  on  the  footing  of  a  friend.  If  he  had  an 
affectation,  it  was  to  represent  himself  as  a  lazy  and  indo- 
lent person,  who  believed  in  nothing,  and  laughed  at  every- 
thing, whereas  he  was  extremely  industrious  and  undefa- 
tigable,  while  there  were  certainly  two  or  three  things  that 
he  believed  in — more,  perhaps,  than  he  would  confess. 

"Here,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  "is  the  little  vas- 
culum  I  spoke  to  you  about ;  it  has  seen  some  service,  but 
it  may  do  well  enough.  And  here  is  Bentley's  Manual, 
and  a  Flora.  The  Flora  is  an  old  one ;  I  brought  an  old 
one  purposely,  for  at  the  beginning  there  is  a  synopsis  of 
the  Linnajan  system  of  classification,  and  you  will  find  that 
the  easiest  way  of  making  out  the  name  of  a  new  plant. 
Of  course,"  he  added,  when  he  had  put  the  vasculum  and 
the  books  on  the  window-sill  and  corne  back,  "  when  you 
get  further  on,  when  you  begin  to  see  how  all  these  plants 
have  grown  to  be  what  they  are,  when  you  come  to  study 
the  likenesses  and  relationships — and  unless  you  mean  to 
go  so  far  you  are  only  wasting  time  to  begin — you  will 
follow  Jussieu  and  De  Candolle;  but  in  the  meantime  you 
will  find  the  Linna3an  system  a  very  dodgy  instrument 
when  you  are  in  a  difficulty.  Then,  another  thing — mind, 
I  am  assuming  that  you  mean  business ;  if  you  want  to 
frivvle,  and  pick  pretty  posies,  I  shut  my  door  on  you,  but, 
I  nay,  if  you  mean  business,  I  have  told  Mrs.  Bell  you 
are  to  have  access  to  my  herbarium,  whether  I'm  there  or 
not." 

But  here  Yolande  began  to  laugh. 

"  Oh  yes*  that  is  so  "probable  f"  said  she.  "  Mrs.  Bell 
allowing  me  to  go  into  your  study  I  " 


160  YOLANDE. 

"  Mrs.  Boll  and  I  understand  each  other  very  well,  I 
assuie  you,"  he  said,  gravely.  "We  are  only  two  augurs, 
who  wink  at  each  other ;  or  rather  we  shut  our  eyes  to 
each  other's  humbug." 

"Why,  Jack,  she  means  to  buy  back  Monaglen  for 
you  !  "  the  Master  of  Lynn  exclaimed. 

u  I  know  she  has  some  romantic  scheme  of  that  sort  in 
her  head,"  he  said,  frankly.  "  It  is  quite  absurd.  What 
should  I  do  with  Monaglen?  However,  in  the  meantime 
I  have  made  pretty  free  use  of  the  old  lady's  money  at 
Gress  ;  and  she  is  highly  pleased,  for  she  was  fond  of  my  fa- 
ther's family,  and  she  likes  to  hear  me  spoken  well  of,  and 
you  can  so  easily  purchase  gratitude — especially  with  some- 
body else's  money.  You  see,  it  works  well  all  round.  Mrs 
Bell,  who  is  an  honest,  shrewd,  good,  kindly  woman,  sees 
that  her  charity  is  administrated  with  some  care  ;  the  people 
around — but  especially  the  children — are  benefited  ;  I  have 
leisure  for  any  little  experiments  and  my  idle  rambles  ;  and 
if  Mrs.  Bell  and  I  hoodwink  each  other,  it  is  done  very 
openly,  and  there  is  no  great  harm." 

"  She  was  very  indignant,"  said  young  Leslie,  laughing, 
u  when  you  wouldn't  have  your  name  put  on  the  tablet  in 
the  schoolhouse." 

"  What  tablet  ?  "  said  Yolande. 

11  Oh  a  tablet  saying  that  Mr.  Melville  had  built  the 
school  and  presented  it  to  the  people  of  Gress." 

"  And  I  never  contributed  a  farthing  !  "  he  said.  "  She 
did  the  whole  thing.  Well,  now,  that  shows  how  artificial 
the  position  is;  and,  necessarily,  it  won't  last.  We  have 
for  so  long  been  hypocrites  for  the  public  good — let  us  say 
it  was  for  the  public  good  ;  but  there  must  come  an  end." 

"  Why,  Jack,  if  you  leave  Gress  you'll  fairly  break  the 
old  dame's  heart.  And  as  for  the  neighborhood — it  will  bo 
like  the  going  away  of  Aikendrum." 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  said  Yolande. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  Mrs.  Bell  will  sing  the  son^ 
for  you,  if  you  ask  her ;  she  knows  all  those  old  things.  I 
don't  know  who  the  gentleman  was,  but  they  made  a  rare 
fuss  about  his  going  away. 

"  *  'liout  him  the  carles  were  gabbin', 
The  br;i\v  laddies  sabbin', 
And  a'  the  lassies  greetin', 
For  that  Aikemlruiu's  awaV  " 


YOLANDE.  ll.il 

"  The  dinner  is  ready,  madam,"  said  a  soft-voiced  and 
pretty  Highland  maid-servant,  appearing  at  the  door;  and 
Yolande's  heart  sank  within  her.  She  summoned  up  her 
courage  nevertheless ;  she  walked  into  the  room  sedately, 
and  took  her  place  at  the  head  of  the  table  with  much 
graciousness,  though  she  was  in  reality  very  nervous  and 
terribly  anxious  about  the  result  of  this  wild  experiment. 
Well,  she  need  not  have  been  anxious.  The  dinner  wa.« 
excellently  cooked,  and  very  fairly  served.  And  if  those 
two  younger  men  seemed  quite  indifferent  as  to  what  they 
ate  and  drank,  and  much  more  interested  in  a  discussion 
about  certain  educational  matters,  at  least  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  noted  and  approved  ;  and  greatly  comforted  wag 
she  from  time  to  time  to  hear  him  say:  "  Yolande,  this  is 
capital  hare  soup  ;  why  can't  we  get  hare  soup  cooked  in 
this  way  in  the  south?"  Or,  "Yolande,  these  are  most 
delicious  trout.  Mr.  Melville's  catching,  I  suppose  ?  It 
seems  to  me  you  have  stumbled  on  an  uncommonly  good 
cook."  Or,  "What?  Another  robbery  of  Mrs.  Bell's 
poultry  yard  ?  Well,  they're  fine  birds — noble,  noble.  We 
must  send  her  some  grouse  to-morrow,  Yolande." 

And  then  outside  tr.ere  was  a  sudden  and  portentous 
growl  of  bass  drones  ;  and  then  the  breaking  away  into  the 
shrill  clear  music  of  a  quickstep  ;  and  through  the  blue 
window-panes  they  could  see  in  the  dusk  the  tall,  tightly 
built  figure  of  young  Duncan,  the  pipes  over  his  shoulder, 
marching  erect  and  proud  up  and  down  the  gravel-path. 
That  was  the  proper  way  to  hear  the  pipes — away  up  there 
in  the  silence  of  the  hills,  amid  the  gathering  gloom  of  the 
night  ;  and  now  they  would  grow  louder  and  shriller  as  he 
drew  near,  and  now  they  would  grow  fainter  and  fainter 
as  he  passed  by,  while  all  around  them,  whether  the  music 
was  faint  or  shrill,  was  the  continuous  hushed  murmur  of 
the  mountain  streams. 

"I  told  Duncan,"  said  Yolande  to  the  Master,  "that 
it  was  a  shame  he  should  keep  all  his  playing  for  the  shep- 
herds in  the  bothy.  And  he  told  me  that  he  very  well 
knew  the  '  Hills  of  Lynn." 

Young  Leslie  regarded  her  with  an  odd  kind  of  smile. 

"  You  don't  think  that  is  the  '  Hills  of  Lynn,'  do  you, 
Yolande?" 

"Is  it  not?     I  have  heard  very  few." 

"No;  I  am  not  first  favorite  to-niorht.  It  isn't  the 
*  Hills  of  Lynn.'  That  is  'Melville's  Welcome  Homo.'  " 


itf'J  YOLAA'DE. 

Yolande  looked  surprised,  but  not  in  any  way  guilty. 

"I  assure  you,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  Jack  Melville, 
pleasantly  enough,  "  that  I  don't  feel  at  all  hurt  or  insulted. 
I  know  Duncan  means  no  sarcasm.  He  is  quite  well  aware 
that  we  haven't  had  a  home  to  welcome  us  this  many  a  day  ; 
but  he  is  not  playing  the  quickstep  out  of  irony.  He  and 
I  are  too  old  friends  for  that." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  he  does  not  mean  anything  like  that," 
said  Yolande.  "  It  is  a  great  compliment  he  means,  is  it 
not?" 

Then  coffee  came  ;  and  cigars  and  pipes  were  produced 
and  as  Yolande  had  no  dread  of  tobacco  smoke,  they  all 
remained  together,  drawing  in  their  chairs  to  the  brisk  fire 
of  wood  and  peat,  and  forming  a  very  friendly,  snug,  and 
comfortable  little  circle.  Nor  was  their  desultory  chatting 
about  educational  projects  solely ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  it  confined  to  grouse  and  the  chances  of  the  weather ; 
it  rambled  over  many  and  diverse  subjects,  while  always, 
from  time  to  time,  could  be  heard  in  the  distance  (for  Dun- 
can had  retired  to  re-gale  his  friends  in  the  bothy)  the  faint 
echoes  of  "  The  Seventy-ninth's  Farewell  to  Gibraltar,"  or 
"Mackenzie's  Farewell  to  Sutherland,"  or  "The  Barren 
Rocks  of  Aden,"  with  occasionally  the  sad  slow  wail  of  a 
Lament — "  Lord  Lovat's,J'  or  "Mackintosh's,"  or  "Mao 
Crimmon's."  And  as  Mr.  Melville  proved  to  be  a  very 
ready  talker  (as  he  lay  back  there  in  an  easy-chair,  with 
the  warm  rays  of  the  fire  lighting  up  his  fine  intellectual 
features  and  clear  and  penetrating  gray  eyes),  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  had  an  abundant  opportunity  of  studying  this  new 
friend  ;  and  so  far  from  observing  in  him  any  of  the  brow- 
beating and  brusqueness  he  had  heard  of,  on  the  contrary, 
be  discovered  the  most  ample  tolerance,  and  more  than 
that,  a  sort  of  large-hearted  humanity  a  sympathy,  a  sincerity 
and  directness  of  speech,  that  begun  to  explain  to  him  why 
Mr.  Melville  of  Gress  was  such  a  favorite  with  those  people 
about  there.  He  seemed  to  assume  that  the  person  he  was 
talking  to  was  his  friend  ;  and  that  it  was  useless  to  waste 
time  in  formalities  of  conversation.  His  manner  toward 
Yolande  (her  father  thought)  was  characterized  by  just  a 
little  too  much  of  indifference  :  but  then  he  was  a  school- 
master, and  not  in  the  habit  of  attaching  importance  to 
the  opinions  of  young  people. 

It  was  really  a  most  enjoyable,  confidential,  pleasant 
evening;  but  it  had  to  come  to  an  end  ;  and  when  the  two 


YOLANDE.  163 

young  men  left,  both  Yolande  and  lier  fathei  accompanied 
them  to  the  door.  The  moon  was  risen  now,  and  the  long 
wide  glen  looked  beautiful  enough. 

"Well,  now,  Mr  Melville,"  said  Mr.  Winterbourne,  as 
they  were  going  away,  '4  whenever  you  have  an  idle  even- 
ing, I  hope  you  will  remember  us,  and  take  pity  on  us." 

"You  may  see  too  much  of  me." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  said  Yolande,  quickly ;  and  then 
she  added,  very  prettily,  "You  know,  Mr.  Melville,  if  you 
come  often  enough  you  will  find  it  quite  natural  that  Dun- 
can should  play  for  you  *  Melville's  Welcome  Home.'  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment  uncertain  ;  it  was  the  first  sign 
of  embarrassment  he  had  shown  that  night." 

44  Well,"  said  he,  u  that  is  the  most  friendly  thing  that 
has  been  said  to  me,  for  many  a  day.  Who  could  resist 
such  an  invitation  ?  Good-night — good-night." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

NEIGHBORS. 

As  it  turned  out,  John  Shortlands  could  not  come  north 
till  the  20th  ;  so  Mr.  Winterbourne  asked  young  Leslie  to 
shoot  with  him  for  the  first  week,  and  the  invitation  had 
been  gratefully  accepted.  The  obligation,  however,  was  not 
all  on  one  side.  The  Master  of  Lynn  was  possessed  of  a 
long  and  familiar  experience  of  the  best  and  swiftest 
methods  of  getting  the  birds  sent  to  a  good  market;  and  he 
made  his  arrangements  in  this  direction  with  a  business-like 
forethought  which  amused  Mr.  Winterbourne,  who  ex- 
pressed some  whimsical  scruples  over  his  being  transformed 
into  a  game-dealer. 

"  I  don't  look  at  it  in  that  light  at  all,"  the  Master  said, 
coolly.  "  Game  is  the  only  thing  land  like  that  will  produce  ; 
and  I  like  to  know  what  it  is  worth.  I  think  I  can  guar- 
antee that  the  hire  of  the  gillies  and  ponies  and  panniers 
won't  cost  you  a  farthing." 

"  You  should  not  be  so  anxious  to  have  your  own  moor 
hard  shot,"  said  Mr.  Wintorbourno,  with  a  smile. 

"But  I  am,"  said  this  shrewd  young  man.     "There  is  no 


164  YOLAXDE. 

danger,  on  ground  like  this,  of  too  small  a  breeding  stock 
being  left.  It  is  all  the  other  way.  What  I  am  afraid  of  is 
too  big  a  stock,  and  the  disease  coming  along.  That  is  a 
terrible  business.  You  are  congratulating  yourself  on  the 
number  of  birds,  and  on  their  fine  condition  ;  and  some 
pleasant  morning  you  wake  up  to  find  the  place  swept 
clean." 

"  Not  in  one  night  ?  " 

"  Well,  a  day  or  two  will  do  it.  This  epidemic  is  quite 
different  from  the  ordinary  mild  forms  of  disease,  where 
you  can  see  the  birds  pining  away  to  death.  Instead  of 
that  you  find  them  all  about  among  the  heather,  dead,  but 
perfectly  plump  and  well-looking,  not  a  sign  of  disease  out- 
side or  in.  So,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  don't  havo 
any  scruples  about  turning  on  Duncan  if  you  think  we  are 
not  doing  well  enough.  The  bigger  consignment  we  can 
send  off  the  better." 

Now  one  consequence  of  this  arrangement  was  that  when 
Yolande,  in  the  morning,  had  said  "  Good-by,  papa."  and 
"  Good-by,  Archie,"  and  given  each  of  them  a  flower  or  some 
such  trifle  (for  in  that  part  of  the  country  the  presentation  of 
a  small  gift,  no  matter  what,  to  any  one  going  shooting,  is 
supposed  to  bring  good  luck),  and  when  she  had  seen  that 
luncheon  was  quite  prepared  to  be  sent  up  the  hill  when 
the  first  pony  left,  she  found  herself  with  the  whole  day  be- 
fore her,  with  no  companion,  and  with  no  occupation  save 
that  of  wandering  down  the  glen  or  up  one  of  the  hillsides 
in  search  of  new  flowers.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  then, 
that  she  should  seek  some  variety  by  occasionally  driving 
into  Gress,  when  the  dog-cart  was  taking  the  game  shot  the 
day  before  to  Foyers,  and  spending  a  few  hours  with  Mrs. 
Bell  until  the  trap  came  back  to  pick  her  up  again.  For 
one  thing,  when  she  discovered  some  plants  unknown  to 
her,  she  found  it  was  much  easier  to  consult  Mr.  Melville's 
herbarium  than  to  puzzle  over  the  descriptions  of  the  vari- 
ous species  in  the  Flora  /  and  as  he  was  generally  occupied 
either  in  the  schoolhouse  or  in  his  laboratory,  she  did  not 
interfere  with  him,  But  the  truth  is,  she  liked  this  shrewd, 
kindly,  wise  old  Scotchwoman,  who  was  the  only  one  in 
the  neighborhood  who  took  any  notice  of  her.  The  people 
at  the  Towers  had  neither  called  nor  made  any  other  over- 
tures. And  as  Mrs,  Bell's  thoughtfulness  and  kind  ness  took 
the  substantial  form  of  semi  ing  up  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  pivtty 
nearly  every  day,  some  article  or  articles  likely  to  be  <>f  use 


YOLANDE.  165 

to  the  young  housekeeper,  of  course  Yolande  had  to  drive 
in  to  thank  her. 

"Mrs.  Bell,"  said  she,  one  warm  and  sunny  afternoon, 
when  they  were  together  in  the  garden  (this  good  woman 
made  awful  havoc  among  her  flowers  when  Yolande  came 
to  see  her),  "  who  was  Aikendrum  ?  " 

"  A  young  lad  who  went  away  for  a  sodger — so  the  song 
says." 

"And  every  one  was  so  sorry,  is  it  not  so  ?  "  said  this 
tall  young  lady,  who  already  had  her  hands  full  of  flowers. 
"  The  Master  was  saying  that  if  Mr.  Melville  leaves  here, 
every  one  will  be  quite  as  sorry — it  will  be  like  the  going 
away  of  Aikendrum." 

"  W  y  should  he  go  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bell,  sharply.  "  Why 
should  he  not  stay  among  his  own  people — yes,  and  on  land 
that  may  be  his  own  one  day  ?  "  And  then  she  added,  more 
gently  :  "It  is  not  a  good  thing  for  one  to  be  away  among 
strangers ;  there's  many  a  sore  heart  comes  o'  that.  It's 
not  only  them  that  are  left  behind  ;  sometimes  it's  the  one 
that  goes  away  that  is  sorrowfu'  enough  about  it.  I  dare 
say,  now,  ye  never  heard  o'  an  old  Scotch  song  they  call 
*  The  sun  rises  bright  in  France  '  ?  " 

"  Oh,  will  you  sing  it  for  me  ?  "  said  Yolande,  eagerly ; 
for  indeed  the  reputation  of  this  good  dame  for  the  singing 
of  those  old  Scotch  songs  was  wide  in  that  district,  though 
it  was  not  every  one  whom  she  would  honor.  And  her 
singing  was  strangely  effective.  She  had  but  little  of  a 
voice ;  she  crooned  rather  than  sang  ;  but  she  could  give 
the  words  a  curiously  pathetic  quality  ;  and  she  had  the 
natural  gift  of  knowing  what  particular  airs  she  could  make 
tell. 

She  laid  her  hand  on  Yolande's  arm,  as  if  to  ask  for  at- 
tention : — 

"  '  The  sun  rises  bright  in  France, 

And  fair  sets  he  ; 
But  he  has  tint  the  blink  he  had 

In  my  aiii  countrie. 
It's  no  my  ain  ruin 

That  weets  aye  my  e'e, 
But  the  dear  Marie  1  left  behind 
WF  s \veet  bairnies  three.' 

Ye've  no  heard  that  before?  " 

"Oh  no.  It  is  a  very  sad  air.  But  why  Marie? — that 
is  French." 

"  Well  ye  see,  the  French  and  the  Scotch  were  very 


166  YOLANDE. 

thick*  in  former  days,  and  Marie  was  a  common  name  in 
Scotland.  I  am  told  they  spoke  nothing  but  French  at 
Ilolyrood  ;  and  the  young  gentlemen  they  were  all  for 
joining  the  French  service — " 

"  But  is  there  no  more  of  the  song,  Mrs.  Bell  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ay,  there  are  other  two  verses.  But  it's  no  for 
an  auld  wife  like  me  to  be  singing  havers.  " 

«  Please." 

"Very  well,  then : 

"  *  The  bud  comes  back  to  summer, 

And  the  blossom  to  the  tree, 
But  I  win  back,  oh,  never, 

To  my  ain  countrie. 
Gladness  comes  to  many, 

Sorrow  comes  to  me, 
As  I  look  o'er  the  wide  ocean 

To  my  aiii  countrie. 

"  '  Fu'  bienly  low'd  my  ain  hearth, 

And  smiled  my  ain  Marie  : 
Oh,  I've  left  my  heart  behind 

In  my  ain  couutrie  ! 
Oh,  I'm  leal  to  high  heaven, 

Which  aye  was  leal  to  me, 
And  it's  there  I'll  meet  ye  a'  soon, 

Frae  my  ain  countrie.'  '  t 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  air — but  so  sad,"  Yolande  said.  And 
then  she  added,  slyly,  "And  now  *  Aikendrum.' " 

But  Mrs.  Bell  doggedly  refused, 

"  I  tell  ye  it's  no  for  an  auld  wife  like  me  to  be  fashing 
with  such  blethers  ;  it's  for  young  lassies  when  they're  out 
at  the  herding.  And  I  hope,  now,  that  ye  are  no  likely  to 
put  any  'Aikendrum'  notions  into  Mr,  Melville's  head. 
Let  him  stay  where  he  is.  Maybe  we'll  get  him  a  better 
stance  \  in  the  countryside  soon  :  stranger  things  have 
come  to  pass." 

«  I  ?  "  said  Yolande  ;  "  is  it  likely  I  should  wish  him  to 
go  away?  Perhaps  you  do  not  know,  then,  that  I  am 
going  to  live  in  this  neighborhood — no  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  indeed ;  is  that  possible,  noo  ?"  said  Mrs.  Bell — and 
she  would  say  no  more.  She  was  herself  most  kindly  and 
communicable  ;  but  always  she  preserved  a  certain  reserve 
of  manner  in  a  case  like  this.  However,  Yolande  was  quite 
frank. 

*  Tl lick— intimate. 

t  The  words  of  this  song  are  by  Allan  Cunningham;  the  music  il 
an  old  Celtic  air.  \  Stance—holding  or  position. 


YOLANDE.  167 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  young  lady,  cheerfully.  "  Of  course 
I  must  live  here  when  I  am  married  ;  and  of  course,  too,  I 
look  forward  to  seeing  Mr.  Melville  always.  He  will  be 
our  nearest  friend — almost  the  only  one.  But  it  is  so  diffi- 
cult to  catch  him.  Either  he  is  in  the  school,  or  he  is  up  at 
the  water-wheel — why,  this  moment,  now  if  I  could  see 
him,  I  would  ask  him  to  drive  out  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  when  the 
carriage  comes  and  stay  to  dine  with  us." 

"  I  wish  ye  would — eh,  I  wish  ye  would,  my  dear  young 
leddy  !  "  the  old  dame  exclaimed.  "  For  the  way  he  goes 
on  is  just  distressing.  Not  a  settled  proper  meal  will  he  sit 
down  to  ;  nothing  but  a  piece  of  cold  meat  aye  to  be  stand- 
ing by.  There  it  is — in  there  among  they  smelling  chemi- 
cal things — day  and  night  there  must  aye  be  the  same  thing 
on  the  side  table  waiting  for  him — some  cold  meat,  a  bit  o' 
bread,  and  a  wee,  scrim  pit,  half-pint  bottle  o'  that  fushion- 
less  claret  wine  that  is  not  one  preen  point  better  than  vin- 
egar. And  then  when  he  gives  the  bairns  a  day's  holiday, 
and  starts  away  for  Loch-na-lairige — a  place  that  no  one 
has' ever  won  to  but  the  shepherd — not  a  thing  in  his  pocket 
but  a  piece  o'  bread  and  cheese.  How  he  keeps  up  his 
strength — a  big-boned  man  like  that — passes  me.  If  ye  want 
to  anger  him,  that's  the  way  to  do  it — compel  him  to  sit  doon 
to  a  respectable  meal,  and  get  the  lasses  to  prepare  a  few 
things  for  him  in  a  clever  kind  o'  way,  as  ye  would  get  in 
any  Christian  house.  Well,  many  a  time  I  think  if  that's 
the  mainner  they  train  young  men  at  Oxford  they  would 
be  better  brought  up  at  another  place.  And  what  is  the 
use  of  it?  His  means  are  far  beyond  his  wants — I  take  care 
there  is  no  wastefulness  in  the  housekeeping,  for  one  tiling; 
and  even  if  they  were  not,  is  there  not  my  money  ? — and  a 
proud  woman  1  would  be  that  day  that  he  would  take  a 
penny  of  it." 

At  this  moment  the  object  of  these  remarks  came  out  of 
the  laboratory — a  small  building  standing  at  right  angles 
with  the  house — and  he  was  buttoning  his  coat  as  if  he  had 
just  put  it  on. 

41  Good-afternoon,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  and  he 
seemed  very  pleased  to  see  her  as  he  took  her  hand  for  a 
second.  "I  thought  I  heard  your  voice.  And  I  have  got 
a  word  of  approval  for  you." 

"  Oh,  indeed  ?"  said  she,  smiling;  for  occasionally  his 
schoolmaster  air  ami  his  condescending  frankness  amused 
her. 


168  YOLANDE. 

"  I  had  a  look  over  my  herbarium  last  night :  you  have 
been  very  careful." 

"  You  thought  I  should  not  be  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know.  But  if  there  had  been  any  confusion 
or  mischief  done,  I  should  not  have  mentioned  it — no,  prob- 
ably I  should  have  let  you  have  your  will ;  only  I  would 
never  have  allowed  any  one  else  to  go  near  the  place ;  so 
you  see  you  would  have  been  inflicting  injury  on  an  un- 
known number  of  persons  in  the  future." 

"  But  how  wrong  not  to  tell  me  '?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  you  have  been  careful  enough.  Indeed,  you  have 
taken  unnecessary  trouble.  It  is  quite  enough  if  the  differ- 
ent genera  are  kept  separate ;  it  is  not  necessary  that  the 
species  should  follow  in  the  same  order  as  they  are  in  the 
Flora.  You  must  not  give  yourself  that  trouble  again/' 

"  When  the  dog-cart  comes  along,"  said  she,  "  I  hope 
you  will  drive  out  with  me  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  spend  the 
evening  with  us." 

"  You  are  very  kind." 

"  No,  I  am  scheming,"  she  said.  "  The  truth  is  the 
fishmonger  at  Inverness  has  disappointed  me — no,  no,  no, 
Mrs.  Bell,  on  the  whole  he  has  been  very  good  ;  but  this 
time  there  is  a  mistake;  and  do  you  think,  Mr.  Melville,  if 
you  are  taking  your  rod  you  could  get  me  a  few  trout  out 
of  the  loch  on  the  way  home  ?  Is  it  too  much  to  ask  ?  " 

He  glanced  at  the  sky.  "  I  think  we  might  manage  it," 
said  he,  "  though  it  is  rather  clear.  There  may  be  a  breeze 
on  the  loch  ;  tliere  generally  is  up  there.  But  what  we 
ought  to  do  is  to  set  out  now  and  walk  it;  and  let  the  trap 
pick  us  up  at  the  loch.  Can  you  walk  so  far?  " 

"  I  should  think  so  !  "  said  Yolande.  "  And  be  delighted 
to." 

c<  Well,  I  will  go  and  get  my  rod  and  basket.  Then  as 
we  go  along  I  can  tell  you  the  names  of  any  plants  you 
don't  know  ;  or  answer  any  questions  that  may  be  puzzling 
you.  Don't  be  afraid  to  ask.  I  like  it.  It  helps  to  keep 
one's  recollections  clear.  And  1  never  laugh  at  ignorance; 
it  is  the  pretense  of  knowledge  that  is  contemptible." 

They  did  not,  however,  talk  botany  exclusively  as  they 
walked  away  from  Gress  on  this  beautiful  afternoon  ;  for  lie 
very  speedily  discovered  that  she  knew  far  more  about  him 
and  his  family  and  his  affairs  than  he  could  possibly  have 
imagined. 

"  The  days  in  Egypt  wore  long,"  she  explained,  "  and 


YOLANDE.  169 


the  Master  used  to  tell  me  all  about  this  neighborhood,  un- 
til, when  I  came  to  it,  everything  seemed  quite  familiar." 


the 

t-Hi  , 

You  have  been  a  great  traveller,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  we  have  travelled  about  a  good  deal.    And  you  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  I  think  I  am  too  lazy.  The  kind  of  travel- 
ling that  I  enjoy  is  to  sit  out  in  the  garden  of  a  summer 
evening,  in  an  easy-chair,  and  to  watch  the  sunset,  and  per- 
haps the  moon  slowly  rising — " 

"  But  you  said  travelling,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  you  are  hurling  along  at  a  rate  of  68,000  miles 
an  hour  ;  isn't  that  quick  enough  for  anything  ?  "  he  said 
laughing. 

"  It  is  a  cheap  way  of  travelling,"  said  she,  with  a  smile. 

"  That  is  why  it  suits  me." 

"  But  you  don't  see  much." 

"  No  !  Not  when  you  can  watch  the  stars  appear  one 
by  one  over  the  hill-tops  ?  Don't  you  think  they  are  as  in- 
teresting as  the  shops  in  the  Palais  Royal  ?  They  are  more 
mysterious,  at  all  events.  It  does  seem  odd,  you  know, 
when  you  think  of  the  numbers  of  human  beings  all  over  the 
world — the  small,  tiny  creatures — sticking  up  their  little  tin 
tubes  at  the  midnight  sky,  and  making  guesses  at  what  the 
stars  are  made  of,  and  how  they  came  to  be  there.  It  is  a 
pathetic  kind  of  thing  to  think  about.  I  fancy  I  must  try  a 
4  Zulu'  and  a  'March  Brown.'  " 

This  startling  non  sequitur  was  caused  by  the  fact  that 
by  this  time  they  had  reached  the  loch,  and  that  he  fre- 
quently thought  aloud  in  this  fashion,  heedless  of  any  in- 
congruity and  heedless  also  of  his  companion.  He  sat  down 
on  a  lump  of  granite,  and  took  out  his  fly-book. 

"  Won't  you  walk  on  to  the  lodge,  Miss  Winterbourne  ?  " 
said  he.  "  I  am  going  to  drift  down  in  the  boat,  and  it  will 
be  slow  work  for  you." 

"  I  will  wait  on  the  bank,"  said  she,  "  and  watch.  Do 
you  not  understand  that  I  am  seriously  interested  ?  " 

"  Then  you  will  see  whether  I  get  any.  It  is  a  sport," 
he  added,  as  he  was  selecting  the  flies,  "  that  there  is  less  to 
be  said  against  than  shooting,  I  imagine.  I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  shooting  birds,  especially  after  I  have  missed  one  or 
two.  Birds  are  such  harmless  creatures.  But  the  fish  is 
different — the  fish  is  making  a  murderous  snap  at  an  in- 
nocent fly,  or  what  he  thinks  to  be  a  fly,  when  a  little  bit  oi 
steel  catcher  him  in  the  very  act.  It  serves  him  right  from 
the  moral  point  of  view." 


170  YOLANDE. 

"But  surely  he  is  justified  in  trying  to  get  his  dinner," 
said  she.  "  Just  as  you  are  doing  now." 

"  Well,  I  will  put  on  a  jay's  wing  also,"  said  he,  "  and  if 
they  don't  like  one  or  other  of  those  nice  wholesome  little 
dishes,  we  must  try  them  with  something  else." 

As  it  happened,  however,  the  trout  seemed  disposed  to 
rise  to  anything,  for  it  was  a  good  fishing  afternoon — warm, 
with  a  light  wind  ruffling  the  surface  of  the  loch.  By  thi? 
time  the  dogcart  came  along  he  had  got  close  on  two  dozen 
in  his  basket,  averaging  about  three  to  the  pound,  so  that  a 
selection  from  them  would  do  very  well  for  dinner  ;  and 
when  he  got  ashore,  and  got  into  the  trap,  Yolande  thanked 
him  for  them  very  prettily,  while  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
said  that  the  obligation  was  all  on  his  side. 

"Why  do  you  not  come  oftener,  then  ?"  she  said  as 
they  were  driving  along  up  the  wide  glen. 

*'•  I  might  be  depriving  some  one  else  of  the  use  of  the 
boat,"  he  answered. 

"  No,  no ;  how  can  that  be  ?  "  she  insisted.  "  They  are 
all  day  up  the  hill.  Why  do  you  not  come  to  the  loch  every 
afternoon,  and  then  come  in  and  spend  the  evenings  with 
us?  Mrs.  Bell  says  you  do  very  wrong  about  your  food, 
not  having  proper  meals  at  proper  tines.  Now  we  are 
always  very  punctual ;  and  if  you  carne  in  and  dined  with 
us,  it  would  teach  you  good  habits." 

"  You  are  too  kind,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he. 
4i  But  please  don't  think  that  I  have  forgotten  the  invitation 
you  gave  me  the  other  night.  I  could  not  be  so  ungrateful 
as  that." 

"And  what  is  the  use  of  remembering,  if  you  do  not 
a'.-t  on  it  ?  "  said  she  ;  but  she  could  not  lecture  the  school- 
master any  further  just  then,  for  they  had  arrived  at  the 
wooden  bridge,  and  she  had  to  let  the  cob  go  very  cautiously 
over  that  primitive  structure. 

After  dinner  that  evening  Mr.  Winterbourne  begged  to 
be  excused  for  a  short  time,  as  he  had  a  letter  to  write  that 
he  wished  posted  at  Wbitebridge  the  same  night.  This  was 
the  letter : 

ALLT-NAM-BA,  August  13. 

"DEAR  SHOKTLANDS, — I  am  sending  you  a  couple  of 
brace  of  birds,  and  would  send  you  more  but  that  I  can  see 
that  my  future  son-in-law  regards  these  bequests  with  great 
disfavor;  and  as  it  is  in  my  interest  that  he  is  trying  to 


YOLANDE.  171 

make  as  much  as  lie  can  out  of  the  shooting,  I  don't  like  to 
interfere  with  his  economical  exertions.  Prudence  in  a 
young  man  should  be  encouraged  rather  than  checked.  I 
hope  you  will  not  be  later  than  the  20th.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
have  you  here.  The  fact  is,  I  have  been  torturing  myself 
with  doubts  and  questions  which  may  appear  to  you  uncalled 
for.  I  hope  they  are  uncalled  for.  Indeed,  to  all  appear- 
ance, everything  is  going  on  well.  Yolande  is  in  the 
brightest  spirits,  and  is  delighted  with  the  place,  and  young 
Leslie  seems  very  proud  of  her  and  affectionate,  The  only 
tiling  is  whether  I  should  not  have  put  the  whole  facts  of 
the  case  before  him  at  the  outset,  and  whether  I  am  not 
bound  in  honor  to  do  so,  now,  before  the  serious  step  of 
marriage  is  taken.  J  don't  know.  I  am  afraid  to  do  it,  and 
afraid  of  what  might  happen  if  I  remain  silent.  There  is  a 
young  man  here,  a  Mr.  Melville,  who  was  Leslie's  tutor,  and 
who  remains  his  intimate  associate  and  friend.  He  is  very 
highly  respected  about  here,  and,  as  I  judge,  seems  to 
deserve  the  high  opinion  every  one  has  of  him.  What  I  am 
thinking  of  now  is  the  propriety  of  laying  the  whole  affair 
before  him,  as  Leslie's  nearest  friend.  He  knows  the  other 
members  of  the  family  also.  I  could  trust  him  to  give  an 
honest  opinion ;  and  if  he,  knowing  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  and  knowing  Leslie,  and  the  ways  of  the  family, 
were  to  think  it  unnecessary  to  break  silence,  then  I  might 
be  fairly  justified  in  letting  the  thing  be  as  it  is.  Do  you 
think  so  ?  But  you  will  answer  this  question  in  person — 
not  later  than  the  20th,  I  hope. 

"  For  a  long  time  I  thought  that  if  only  Yolande  were 
married  and  settled  quietly  in  the  country  there  would  be 
no  further  need  for  anxiety ;  but  now  I  can  not  keep  from 
speculating  on  other  possibilities,  and  wondering  whether  it 
would  not  be  better  to  prevent  any  future  ground  of  com- 
plaint and  consequent  unhappiness  by  telling  the  whole 
truth  now.  Surely  that  might  be  done  without  letting  Yo- 
lande know.  Why  should  she  ever  know  ? 

"  If  you  can  leave  on  the  night  of  the  18th  you  will 
reach  Inverness  next  forenoon,  and  catch  the  3  P.M.  boat 
down  the  Caledonian  Canal.  Most  likely  you  will  find 
Yolande  waiting  for  you  at  the  pier ;  she  likes  driving. 
Our  prospects  for  the  20th  are  fairly  good  :  there  is  more 
cover  black  game  up  those  mountainous  comes  than  I  could 
have  expected.  We  shoot  all  we  find,  as  they  don't  stop 
here  through  the  winter.  On  the  12th  we  had  sixty-eight 


172  YOLANDE. 

brace  grouse,  one  ptarmigan,  one  snipe,  and  a  few  mountain 
hares ;  on  the  13th,  seventy-one  brace  grouse,  and  also  some 
hares  ;  yesterday  it  was  wet  and  wild,  and  we  only  went  out 
for  an  hour  or  so  in  the  afternoon — nine  brace;  to-day  was  fine, 
and  we  got  sixty-two  brace  grouse  and  one  and  a  half  brace 
ptarmigan.  Young  Leslie  is  about  the  best  all  round  shot 
I  have  ever  seen  — cool  and  certain.  I  think  I  get  more 
nervous  year  by  year  ;  but  then  he  is  a  capital  hand  at 
redeeming  mistakes,  and  that  gives  me  a  little  more  con- 
fidence. A  stag  and  three  hinds  passed  close  by  the  lodge 
late  last  night — at  least  so  the  shepherds  say. 

4<  I  know  you  won't  mind  my  asking  you  to  bring  some 
little  trifle  or  other  for  Yolande,  just  to  show  that  you  were 
thinking  of  her.  She  will  meet  you  at  Foyers  pier. 

"  Yours  faithfully,  G.  R.  WLNTERBOURNE." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

<4IM  WALD   UND  AUF  DEB  HEIDE." 

NEXT  morning  there  was  a  sudden  call  on  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  to  dismiss  these  fears  and  anxieties.  The  little  com- 
munity away  up  there  in  the  solitude  of  the  hills  was  sud- 
denly thrown  into  violent  commotion.  A  young  gillie 
who  had  been  wandering  about  had  come  running  back 
to  the  bothy,  declaring  that  he  had  seen  a  stag  go  into  the 
wood  just  above  the  lodge,  and  of  course  the  news  was  im- 
mediately carried  to  the  house,  and  instantly  the  two  gentle- 
men came  out — Mr.  Wiuterbourntj  eager  and  excited,  the 
Master  of  Lynn  not  quite  so  sure  of  the  truth  of  the  report. 
Duncan,  to  tell  the  truth  was  also  inclined  to  doubt;  for  this 
young  lad  had  until  the  previous  year  been  a  deck  hand  on 
board  the  Dunura  Castle,  and  knew  a  great  deal  more 
aUout  skarts  and  sea-gulls  than  about  stags.  Moreover,  the 
shepherds  had  been  through  the  wood  this  game  morning 
with  their  dogs.  However,  it  was  determined,  after  much 
hurried  consultation,  not  to  miss  the  chance  if  there  was  a 
chance.  The  day  in  any  case,  threatened  to  turn  out  badly 
the  clouds  were  coming  closer  and  closer  down  ;  to  drive  this 
wood  would  be  a  short,  and  practicable  undertaking  that 


YOLANDE.  173 

would  carry  them  on  conveniently  to  lunch-time.  And  so 
it  was  finally  arranged  that  Mr.  Winterbotirne  should  go 
away  by  himself  to  a  station  that  he  knew,  commanding 
certain  gullies  that  the  stag,  if  there  was  a  stag,  would 
most  likely  make  for  ;  while  the  Master  would  stay  behind, 
and,  after  a  calculated  interval,  go  through  the  wood  with 
Duncan  and  the  beaters. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  Miss  Yolande  suddenly  made  her 
appearance,  in  a  short-skirted  dress,  thick  boots,  and  deer- 
stalker's cap. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  her  father  said,  abruptly,  and 
with  a  stare. 

"  I  am  going  with  you,"  was  her  cool  answer. 

"  Indeed  you  are  not." 

«  Why  not,  then  ?" 

"  Women  going  deer-stalking !"  he  exclaimed.  "  What 
next?" 

"  Can  I  not  be  as  quiet  as  any  one?     Why  should  I  not 

fo  with  you?  I  have  climbed  the  hill  many  times,  and  I 
now  very  well  where  to  hide,  for  Duncan  showed  me  the 
place." 

"  Go  spin,  you  jade,  go  spin  !"  her  father  said,  as  he 
shouldered  the  heavy  rifle,  and  set  off  on  the  long  and 
weary  struggle  up  the  hill. 

Yolande  turned  to  the  Master. 

"  Is  he  not  unkind  !"  she  said,  in  a  crestfallen  way. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  I  would  go  all  the 
same." 

"  Should  I  do  any  harm?  Is  it  possible  that  I  could  do 
any  harm  ?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  What  harm  could  you  do  ?  There  is 
room  for  a  dozen  people  to  hide  in  that  place  ;  and  if  you 
keep  your  head  just  a  little  bit  above  the  edge,  and  keep 
perfectly  still,  you  will  see  the  whole  performance  in  the 
gully  below.  If  there  is  a  stag  in  the  wood,  and  if  I  don't 
get  a  shot  at  him,  he  is  almost  sure  to  go  up  through  the 
gullies.  You  won't  scream,  I  suppose  ?  And  don't  move  : 
if  you  move  a  finger  he  will  see  you.  And  don't  tumble 
into  too  many  moss-holes,  Yolande,  when  you  are  crossing 
the  moor.  And  don't  break  your  ankles  in  a  peat-hag.  And 
don't  topple  over  the  edge  when  you  get  to  the  gullies." 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  frighten  me?  No  ;  I  am  going 
as  soon  as  papa  is  out  of  sight." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  go   wrong,"  said  he,  good-naturedly. 


174  YOLANDE. 

"  The  only  thing  is,  when  you  get  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  you 
might  go  on  some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  before  cross- 
ing the  moor,  so  as  to  keep  well  back  from  the  wood." 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly,"  said  Yolande.  "  I  understand 
very  well." 

Accordingly,  some  little  time  thereafter,  she  set  out  on 
her  self-imposed  task  ;  and  she  was  fully  aware  that  it  was  a 
fairly  arduous  one.  Even  here  at  the  outset  it  was  pretty 
stiff  work ;  for  the  hill  rose  sheer  away  from  the  little  pla 
teau  on  which  the  lodge  stood,  and  the  ground  was  rugged 
in  some  parts  and  a  morass  in  others,  while  there  was  an 
abundance  of  treacherous  holes  where  the  heather  grew 
long  among  the  rocks.  But  she  had  certain  landmarks  to 
guide  her.  At  first  there  was  a  sheep  track ;  then  she 
made  for  two  jumper  bushes  ;  then  for  certain  conspicuous 
boulders ;  then,  higher  up,  she  came  on  a  rough  and  stony  face 
where  the  climbing  was  pretty  difficult ;  then  by  the  edge 
of  a  little  hollow  that  had  a  tree  or  two  in  it  and  then,  as  she 
was  now  nearly  at  the  top,  and  as  there  was  a  smooth 
boulder  convenient,  she  thought  she  would  sit  down  a 
minute  to  regain  her  breath.  Far  below  her  the  lodge  and 
its  dependencies  looked  like  so  many  small  toyhouses ;  she 
could  see  the  tiny  figures  of  human  beings  moving  about  ; 
in  the  perfect  silence  she  could  hear  the  whining  of  the 
dogs  shut  up  in  the  kennel.  Then  one  of  those  miniature 
figures  waved  something  white;  she  returned  the  signal. 
Then  she  rose  and  went  on  again  ;  she  crossed  a  little  burn  ; 
she  passed  along  the  edge  of  some  steep  gullies  leading 
away  down  to  the  Corrie-an-Eich,  that  is,  the  Corrie  of  the 
Horses  and  finally,  after  some  further  climbing,  she  reached 
the  broad,  wide,  open,  undulating  moorland,  from  whchi 
nothing  wasvisible  but  a  wilderness  of  bare  and  bleak 
mountain-top,  all  as  silent  as  the  grave. 

She  had  been  up  here  twice  or  thrice  before  ;  but  she 
never  came  upon  this  scene  of  vast  and  voiceless  desolation 
without  being  struck  by  a  sort  of  terror.  It  seemed  away 
out  of  the  world.  And  on  this  morning  a  deeper  gloom 
than  usual  hung  over  it;  the  clouds  were  low  and  heavy; 
there  was  a  brooding  stillness  in  the  air.  She  was  glad 
that  some  one  had  preceded  her :  the  solitude  of  this  place 
was  terrible. 

And  now  as  she  set  out  to  cross  the  wild  moorland  she 
discovered  that  that  was  a  much  more  serious  undertaking 
than  when  she  had  a  friendly  hand  to  lend  her  assistance 


YOLANDE.  175 

troni  time  to  time.  This  wide  plain  of  moss  and  bog  and 
heather  was  intersected  by  a  succession  of  peat-hags,  the  oozy 
black  soil  of  which  was  much  more  easy  to  slide  down  into 
than  to  clamber  out  of.  The  Master  of  Lynn  had  taught 
her  h<jw  to  cross  these  hags  ;  one  step  down,  then  a  spring 
across  then  her  right  hand  grasped  by  his  right 
hand,  then  her  elbow  caught  by  his  left  hand,  and  she 
stood  secure  on  the  top  of  the  other  bank.  But  now,  as  she 
scrambled  down  the  one  side,  so  she  had  to  scramble  up  the 
other,  generally  laying  hold  of  a  bunch  of  heather  to  help 
her ;  and  as  she  was  anxious  not  to  lose  her  way,  she  made 
a  straight  course  across  this  desert  waste,  and  did  not  turn 
aside  for  drier  or  smoother  ground,  as  one  better  acquainted 
with  the  moor  might  have  done.  However,  she  struggled 
on  bravely.  The  first  chill  .struck  by  that  picture  of  desola- 
tion had  gone.  She  was  thinking  more  of  the  deer  now. 
She  hoped  she  would  be  up  in  time.  She  hoped  her  father 
would  get  a  chance.  And  of  course  she  made  perfectly 
certain  that  if  he  did  get  a  chance  he  would  kill  the  stag  ; 
and  then  there  would  be  a  joyful  procession  back  to  the 
lodge,  and  a  rare  to-do  among  the  servants  and  the  gillies, 
with  perhaps  a  dance  in  the  evening  to  the  skirl  of  Dun- 
can's pipes. 

All  at  once  a  cold  wind  began  to  blow ;  and  about  a 
minute  thereafter  she  had  no  more  idea  of  where  she  was 
than  if  she  had  been  in  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
whole  world  had  been  suddenly  shut  out  from  her ;  all  she 
could  see  was  a  yard  or  two,  either  way,  of  the  wet  moss 
and  heather.  This  gray  cloud  that  had  come  along  was  raw 
to  the  throat  and  to  the  eyes  ;  but  it  did  not  deposit  much 
moisture  on  her  clothes  ;  its  chief  effect  was  the  bewilder- 
incut  of  not  seeing  anything.  And  yet  she  thought  slip 
ought  to  go  on.  Perhaps  she  might  get  out  of  it.  Perhaps 
the  wind  would  carry  it  off.  And  so  she  kept  on  as  straight 
as  she  could  guess,  but  with  much  more  caution,  for  at  any 
moment  she  might  fall  into  one  of  the  deep  holes  worn  by 
the  streams  in  the  peat,  or  into  one  of  the  moss-holes  where 
the  vegetation  was  so  treacherously  green. 

But  as  she  went  on  and  on,  and  could  find  nothing  that 
she  could  recognize,  she  grew  afraid.  Moreover,  there 
was  a  roaring  of  a  waterfall  somewhere,  which  seemed  to 
her  louder  than  anything  she  had  heard  about  there  before. 
She  began  to  wonder  how  far  she  had  come,  and  to  fear 
that  in  the  mist  she  had  lost  her  direction,  and  might  be  in 


176  YOLANDE. 

the  immediate  neighborhood  of  some  dangerous  precipice. 
And  then,  as  she  was  looking  all  round  her  helplessly,  her 
heart  stood  still  with  fright.  There,  away  in  that  vague 
pall  that  encompassed  her,  stood  the  shadow,  the  ghost,  of 
an  animal,  a  large,  visionary  thing,  motionless  and  noiseless, 
at  a  distance  that  she  could  not  compute.  And  now  she 
felt  sure  that  that  was  the  stag  they  were  in  search  of ;  and, 
strangely  enough,  her  agony  of  fear  was  not  that  she  might 
by  accident  be  shot  through  being  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  deer,  but  that  she  might  by  some  movement  on  her  part 
scare  it  away.  She  stood  motionless,  her  heart  now  beat- 
ing with  excitement,  her  eyes  fixed  on  this  faint  shade 
away  in  there,  in  the  gray.  It  did  not  move.  She  kept 
her  hands  clinched  by  her  side,  so  that  she  should  not 
tremble.  She  dared  not  even  sink  into  the  heather  and  try 
to  hide  there.  But  the  next  moment  she  had  almost 
screamed  ;  for  there  was  a  hurried  rushing  noise  Behind  her 
and  as  she  (in  spite  of  herself)  wheeled  round  to  face  this 
new  danger,  a  troop  of  phantoms  went  flying  by — awful 
things  they  appeared  to  be  until,  just  as  they  passed  her, 
she  recognized  them  to  be  humble  and  familiar  sheep.  More- 
over, when  she  saw  that  other  animal  out  there  disappear 
along  with  them — the  whole  of  them  looming  large  and 
mysterious  in  this  cloud-world — she  made  sure  that  that 
had  been  a  sheep  also,  and  she  breathed  more  freely.  Must 
not  these  animals  have  been  disturbed  by  her  father? 
Ought  she  not  to  make  back  in  the  direction  from  which 
they  had  come  ?  To  go  any  further  forward  she  scarcely 
dared  ;  the  roar  of  water  seemed  perilously  near. 

As  she  thus  stood,  bewildered,  uncertain,  and  full  of  a 
nameless  dread,  she  saw  before  her  a  strange  thing — a  thing 
that  added  amazement  to  her  terror — a  belt  of  white,  like 
a  waterfall,  that  seemed  to  connect  earth  and  sky.  It  was 
at  an  unknown  distance,  but  it  appeared  to  be  perfectly 
vertical,  and  she  knew  that  no  such  stupendous  waterfall 
had  she  either  seen  before  or  heard  of.  That,  then,  that 
white  water,  was  the  cause  of  the  roaring  noise.  And  then 
she  bethought  her  of  a  saying  of  Archie  Leslie  that  tales 
\\  <-i •(.•  told  of  people  having  gone  into  this  wilderness  and 
never  having  been  heard  of  again ;  but  that  there  was  one 
sure  way  of  escape  for  any  one  who  got  astray — to  follow 
any  one  of  the  streams.  That,  he  had  sriid,  must  sooner  or 
later  lead  you  down  to  Allt-nam-Ba.  But  when  she  thought 
oi  going  away  over  to  that  white  torrent,  :m<l  seeking  to 


YOLANDE.  177 

follow  its  course  down  through  chasm  after  chasm,  she 
shuddered.  For  one  who  knew  the  country  intimately — for 
a  man  who  could  jump  from  boulder  to  boulder,  and  swing 
himself  from  bush  to  bush — it  might  be  possible ;  for  her 
it  was  impossible.  Nor  was  there  the  slightest  use  in  her 
trying  to  go  back  the  way  she  came.  She  had  lost  all  sense 
of  direction  ;  there  was  nothing  to  give  her  a  clue  ;  she  was 
absolutely  helpless. 

But  fortunately  she  had  the  good  sense  to  stand  still  and 
to  consider  her  position  with  such  calmness  as  she  could  mus- 
ter ;  and  that  took  time,  insensibly  to  herself,  the  clouds 
around  were  growing  thinner.  Then  she  noticed  that  the 
upper  part  of  that  awe-inspiring  torrent  had  receded  very 
considerably — that  the  white  line  was  no  longer  vertical,  but 
seemed  to  stretch  back  into  the  distance.  Then  the  moorland 
visible  around  her  began  to  grow  more  extended.  Here  and 
there  faint  visions  of  hills  appeared.  And  then  a  flood  of 
joyful  recognition  broke  over  her.  That  awful  torrent  was 
nothing  but  the  familiar  Allt-cam-Ban,*  its  brawling  white 
stream  not  vertical  at  all,  but  merely  winding  down  from 
the  far  heights  of  the  hills.  She  had  come  too  far  certainly  ; 
but  now  she  knew  that  the  gullies  she  was  in  search  of 
were  just  behind  her,  and  that  her  father's  hiding-place 
was  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards  distant.  The  cloud 
that  had  encompassed  her  was  now  trailing  along  the  face 
of  the  hill  opposite  her ;  the  gloomy  landscape  was  clear  in 
all  its  features.  With  a  light  heart  she  tripped  along,  over 
heather,  across  hags,  through  sopping  moss,  until  behind  a 
little  barricade  which  Nature  had  formed  at  the  summit  of 
a  precipice  overlooking  certain  ravines — a  little  box,  as  it 
were,  that  looked  as  if  it  had  been  dug  out  for  the  very  pur- 
Dose  of  deer-slaying — she  found  her  father  quietly  standing, 
and  cautiously  peering  over  the  ledge. 

When  he  heard  her  stealthy  approach  he  quickly  turned  ; 
then  he  motioned  her  to  stoop  down  and  come  to  him. 
This  she  did  very  cautiously  and  breathlessly,  and  presently 
hhe  was  standing  beside  him,  on  a  spot  which  enabled  hel- 
lo look  down  into  the  gullies  beneath.  These  certainly 
formed  a  most  admirable  deer-trap,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
The  place  consisted  of  a  series  of  little  hills  or  lumps,  prob- 
ably not  more  than  150  feet  in  height,  with  sheer  smooth 
slopes,  here  and  there  lightly  wooded,  but  mostly  covered 

*  The  White  Winding  Water. 


178  YOLANDR. 

with  heather.  The  gullies  between  those  lumps,  agrmi, 
came  to  a  point  in  a  ravine  just  underneath  where  Yolande 
was  standing ;  so  that,  whichever  way  the  deer  came,  they 
were  almost  certain  to  make  up  the  steep  face  just  opposite 
this  station,  and  so  give  the  rifleman  an  excellent  chance. 
Yolande  took  out  her  housekeeper's  note-book,  and  wrote 
on  the  fly-leaf : 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  f  " 

He  shook  his  head,  and  motioned  to  her  to  put  the  book 
away.  It  was  not  a  time  for  trifling.  If  there  were  a  sta<* 
in  the  unseen  woods  beyond,  it  might  make  its  sudden  ap- 
pearance in  this  silent  little  ravine  at  any  moment,  and 
might  make  for  the  top  by  some  quite  unexpected  track. 
He  kept  his  eyes  on  the  watch  all  along  the  gullies*;  but  his 
head  was  motionless.  Yolande  too  was  eager  and  anxious 
—but  only  for  a  while.  As  time  passed  she  grew  listless. 
This  solitude  seemed  always  to  have  been  a  solitude.  There 
was  no  sign  of  life  in  it.  Doubtless  the  young  lad  had  been 
deceived.  And  then  she  grew  to  thinking  of  the  strange 
sight  she  saw  in  the  mist,  when  the  waters  of  the  Allt-cam- 
Ban  seemed  to  be  one  foaming  white  vertical  torrent. 

Then  a  shock  came  to  her  eyes — a  living  thing  suddenly 
appeared  in  that  empty  solitude  ;  and  at  once  she  clinched 
her  hands.  She  knew  what  was  expected  of  her.  She  re- 
mained rigid  as  a  stone;  she  would  not  even  raise  her  head 
to  see  if  her  father  saw.  She  kept  her  eyes  on  this  startling 
feature  in  the  landscape  ;  she  held  her  breath  ;  she  was 
mainly  conscious  of  a  dim  fear  that  this  animal  that  was 
coming  over  that  hillock  at  such  a  speed  was  not  a  deer  at 
all,  but  a  fox.  It  was  of  a  light  reddish-brown  color.  Then 
it  had  not  come  up  any  of  the  gullies,  as  she  had  been  told 
to  expect ;  it  had  come  right  over  the  top  of  the  little  hill, 
with  a  long,  sinuous  stride;  and  now  it  was  descending 
ngrfun  into  the  ravine.  But  here  she  saw  it  was  a  deer. 
Once  out  of  the  long  heather,  and  coining  nearer  too,  it  was 
clear  that  this  was  a  deer.  But  surely  small  ?  Where  were 
the  great  horns?  Or  was  it  a  hind  ?  She  knew  rather  than 
saw  that  her  father  twice  aimed  his  rifle  at  this  animal, 
whatever  it  was,  as  it  sped  across  an  open  space  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ravine.  Of  course  all  this  happened  in  a  few 
seconds,  and  she  had  just  begun  to  think  that  the  animal 
had  horns,  and  was  a  roebuck,  when  the  lithe,  red,  sinuous, 
silent  object  disappeared  altogether  behind  a  ridge.  Still 


YOLAXDE.  179 

she  did   not  move.     She  did  not  express  disappointment. 
She  would  not  turn  her  head. 

Then  she  knew  that  her  father  had  quickly  passed  her 
and  jumped  on  a  clump  of  heather  whence  he  could  get  a 
better  view.  She  followed.  The  next  thing  she  saw,  clear 
against  the  sky,  and  not  more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  off,  was  the  head  of  a  deer,  the  horns  thrown  back, 
the  nostrils  high  in  the  air.  The  same  instant  her  father  fired  ; 
and  that  strange  object  (which  very  much  frightened  her) 
disappeared.  She  saw  her  father  pause  for  a  second  to  put 
a  fresh  cartridge  in  his  rifle  and  then  away  he  hurried  to 
the  place  where  the  deer  had  passed  ;  and  so  she  thought 
she  might  safely  follow.  She  found  her  father  searching  all 
about,  but  more  particularly  studying  the  peat-hags. 

"  I  do  believe  I  hit  him,"  lie  said  (and  there  was  consid- 
erable vexation  in  his  tone).  "Look  about,  Yolande.  lie 
must  have  crossed  the  peat  somewhere.  If  lie  is  wounded, 
he  may  not  have  gone  far.  It  was  only  a  roebuck — still — 
such  a  chance!  Confound  it,  I  believe  I've  missed  him 
clean  !  " 

He  was  evidently  grievously  mortified,  and  she  was  sorry, 
for  she  knew  he  would  worry  about  it  afterward  ;  smaller 
trifles  than  that  made  him  fidget.  But  all  their  searching 
was  in  vain.  The  peat-hags  here  were  narrow  :  a  frightened 
deer  would  clear  them. 

"  If  he  is  wounded,  papa,  Duncan  and  the  dogs  will  go 
after  him." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  he,  moodily;  "I  believe  I  missed  him 
clean.  If  he  had  been  hit  lie  couldn't  have  got  away  so 
fast.  Of  course  it  was  only  a  buck — still — " 

"  But,  papa,  it  was  a  most  difficult  shot.  I  never  saw 
any  creature  go  at  such  a  pace  ;  and  you  only  saw  him  for 
a  moment." 

"Yes,  and  for  that  moment  he  looked  as  big  as  a  cow 
against  the  sky.  Nobody  but  an  idiot  could  have  missed 
the  thing." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  try  to  make  me  believe  you  arc  a 
bad  shot,"  said  she  proudly.  "No.  Every  one  knows 
better  than  that.  I  know  what  Mr.  Leslie  tells  me.  And 
I  suppose  the  very  best  shot  in  the  world  misses  some- 
times." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  use  waiting  here,"  said  lie.  "  Of 
course  there  was  no  stag.  The  stag  that  idiot  of  a  boy  saw 
was  this  roebuck.  If  there  were  a  stag,  the  noise  of  the 


180  YOLANDE. 

shot  must  have  driven  him  off.  Why  the  mischief  I  did 
not  fire  when  he  was  crossing  the  gully  I  don't  understand ! 
I  had  my  rifle  up  twice — " 

"  Papa,"  said  she,  suddenly,  "  what  is  that  ?  " 

She  was  looking  away  down  into  the  ravine  beneath 
them — at  a  dusky  red  object  that  was  lying  in  a  patch  of 
green  bracken.  He  followed  the  direction  of  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  surely — yes,  it  is,  Yolande — that  is  the  buck  , 
he  must  have  fallen  backward  and  rolled  right  down  to  the 
bottom—" 

"  And  you  said  you  were  such  a  bad  shot,  papa !  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  no  such  prize,"  he  said  (but  he  spoke  a 
good  deal  more  cheerfully) ;  "  what  I  wonder  is  whether 
the  poor  beast  is  dead  ;  I  suppose  he  must  be." 

"  There  they  come — there  they  come — look  !  "  she  said  ; 
and  she  was  far  more  excited  and  delighted  than  he  was. 
"  There  is  the  red  gillie  at  the  top,  and  Duncan  coming 
along  by  the  hollow — and  there  is  Archie — " 

She  took  out  her  hankerchief  and  waved  it  in  the  air. 

"Don't,  Yolande,"  said  he.  "  They'll  think  we've  got 
a  stag." 

"  We've  got  all  the  stag  there  was  to  get,"  said  she, 
proudly.  "  And  you  said  you  were  not  a  good  shot — to 
shoot  a  roebuck  running  at  such  a  pace !  " 

"  You  are  the  most  thorough  going  flatterer,  Yolande," 
he  said,  laughing  (but  he  was  very  much  pleased  all  the 
same).  "  Why,  he  wasn't  going  at  all  just  at  the  crest — 
lie  stopped  to  sniff  the  air — " 

"  But  you  could  only  have  seen  him   for  the  fiftieth  part 
of  a  second  :  isn't  that  the  same  as  running?" 

At  this  moment  a  voice  was  heard  from  below,  where  a 
little  group  of  figures  had  collected  round  the  buck.  It 
was  the  Master  of  Lynn  who  was  looking  up  to  them. 

"  A  very  fine  head  sir,"  he  called. 

"  There,  didn't  I  tell  you?  "  she  said  proudly,  though 
she  had  never  told  him  anything  of  the  kind.  And  then  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment  she  forgot  that  she  had  never 
revealed  to  her  father  that  little  arrangement  about  the 
whiskey  that  the  Master  had  suggested  to  her. 

"  Duncan,"  she  called  down  to  them. 

"  Yes,  miss." 

"  When  you  go  back  home,  you  will  let  the  beaters 
have  a  glass  of  whiskey  each." 

"Very  well,  miss,"  he  called   back;  and   then    he  qro- 


YOLANDE.  181 

ceeded  with  the  slinging  of  the  buck  round  the  shoulders 
of  the  red-headed  gillie. 

"  Archie,"  she  called  again. 

"  Yes." 

"  If  you  are  back  at  the  lodge  first,  wait  for  us.  We 
shall  be  there  in  time  for  lunch." 

"  All  right." 

She  was  very  proud  and  pleased  as  they  trudged  away; 
home  again  over  the  wild  moorland.  For  her  part  she 
could  see  no  difference  between  a  roe-deer  and  a  red-deer, 
except  that  the  former  (as  she  declared)  was  a  great  deal 
pleasanter  to  eat,  as  she  hoped  she  would  be  able  to  show 
them.  And  was  it  not  a  far  more  difficult  thing  to  hit  a 
deer  of  the  size  of  a  roebuck  than  to  hit  a  stag  as  tali  as  a 
horse  ? 

"  Flatterer,  flatterer,"  he  said,  but  he  was  mightily  well 
pleased  all  the  same  ;  and  indeed  to  see  Yolande  gay  and 
cheerful  like  this  was  of  itself  quite  enough  for  him  ;  so  that 
for  the  time  he  forgot  all  his  anxieties  and  fears. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A   CONTIDANT. 

ONE  evening  John  Shortlands  and  Jack  Melville  were 
together  standing  at  the  door  of  the  lodge,  looking  down  the 
glen  at  the  very  singular  spectacle  there  presented.  The 
day  had  been  dull  and  overclouded,  and  seemed  about  to  sink 
into  an  equally  gloomy  evening,  when  suddenly,  at  sunset, 
the  western  heavens  broke  into  a  flame  of  red  ;  and  all  at 
once  the  stream  flowing  down  through  the  valley  became 
one  sheet  of  vivid  pink  fire,  only  broken  here  and  there  by 
the  big  blocks  of  granite  in  its  channel,  which  remained 
of  a  pale  and  ghostly  gray. 

The  big,  burly  M.  P.," however,  did  not  seem  wholly  oc- 
cupied with  this  transfiguration  of  the  heavens.  He  looked 
vexed,  perturbed,  impatient. 

"  Mr.  Melville,"  he  said,  abruptly,  in  his  broad  North- 
umbrian  intonation,  "  will  you  walk  down  the  glen  for  a 
bit?" 


182  YOLAXDE. 

"  Yes ;  b  it  we  should  fetch  Miss  Winterboarne  to  show 
her  the  skies  on  fire." 

"  No ;  it's  about  her  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  Come 
along." 

"  About  her  ? "  he  repeated,  with  the  large  clear  gray 
eyes  showing  some  astonishment. 

4<  Or  rather,"  said  his  companion,  when  they  had  got  as 
far  as  the  bridge,  "  about  her  father.  Winterboarne  is  an 
old  friend  of  mine,  and  I  won't  just  call  him  an  ass  ;  but 
the  way  he  is  going  on  at  present,  shilly-shallying,  frightened 
to  say  this,  frightened  to  say  that,  is  enough  to  worry  a  far 
stronger  man  than  he  is  into  his  grave.  Well,  if  he  won't 
speak,  I  will.  Dang  it,  I  hate  mystery !  My  motto  is — 
Out  with  it !  And  he  would  never  have  got  into  this  pre- 
cious mess  if  he  had  taken  my  advice  all  through." 

Melville  was  surprised,  but  he  did  not  interrupt.  John 
Shortlands  seemed  a  trifle  angry. 

"  The  immediate  trouble  with  him  is  this  :  Ought  he  or 
ought  he  not  to  confide  certain  matters  to  you  as  a  friend 
of  young  Leslie?  Well,  I  am  going  to  take  that  into  my 
own  hand.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  whole  story — and  a 
miserable  business  it  is." 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  wise  ?  "  the  younger  man  said  calm- 
ly. "  If  there  is  anything  disagreeable,  shouldn't  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  be  kept  to  as  few  people  as  possible?  I  would 
rather  have  my  illusions  left.  The  Winterbournes  have 
been  kind  to  me  since  they  came  here,  and  it  has  been  de- 
lightful to  me  to  look  at  these  two — the  spectacle  of  father 
and  daughter." 

"  Oh,  but  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  either  of  them 
— God  forbid  ! — except  that  Winterbourne  has  been  a  con- 
founded ass,  as  it  seems  to  me  ;  or  perhaps  I  should  say  as 
i*  used  to  seem  to  me.  Well,  now,  I  suppose  you  know 
that  your  friend  Leslie  and  Yolande  are  engaged?  " 

"  I  have  understood  as  much." 

"But  did  he  not  tell  ye?"  said  Shortlands,  with  a  stare. 

"  Well,  yes,"  the  other  said,  in  rather  a  cold  way. 
"But  we  did  not  have  much  talk  about  it.  Archie  Leslie 
is  a  very  fine  fellow ;  but  he  and  I  don't  always  agree  in 
our  ways  of  looking  at  things." 

"  Then,  at  all  events,  in  order  to  disagree,  you  must 
know  what  his  way  of  looking  at  things  is  ;  and  that  is  just 
the  point  I'm  coming  to,"  said  Shortlands,  in  his  blunt, 
dogmatic  kind  of  way.  "  Just  this,  that  Yolande  Winter 


YOLANDE.  188 

bourne  has  been  brought  up  all  her  life  to  believe  that  her 
mother  died  when  she  was  a  child  ;  whereas  the  mother  is 
not  dead,  but  very  much  alive — worse  luck  ;  and  the  point 
is  whether  he  ought  to  be  told  ;  and  whether  he  is  a  sensible 
sort  of  chap,  who  would  make  no  fuss  about  it,  and  who 
would  see  that  it  could  not  matter  much  to  him  ;  and,  above 
all,  whether  he  would  consent  to  keep  this  knowledge  back 
from  Yolande,  who  would  only  be  shocked  and  horrified 
by  it.  Do  ye  understand  ?  I  think  I  have  put  it  plain — 
that  is,  from  Winterbourne's  point  of  view." 

"  But,  surely,"  exclaimed  Melville,  with  wide-open  eyes 
— "  surely  the  best  thing,  surely  the  natural  thing,  would  be 
to  tell  the  girl  herself,  first  of  all !  " 

"  Man  alive !  Winterbourne  would  rather  cut  his  throat. 
Don't  you  see  that  his  affection  for  the  girl  is  quite  extraor- 
dinary ?  It  is  the  sole  passion  of  his  life :  a  needle  scratch 
on  Yolande's  finger  is  like  a  knife  to  his  heart.  I  assure 
you  the  misery  he  has  endured  in  keeping  this  secret  is 
beyond  anything  I  can  tell  you ;  and  I  do  believe  he  would 
go  through  the  whole  thing  again  just  that  Yolande's  mind 
should  be  free,  happy,  and  careless.  Mind  you,  it  was  not 
done  through  any  advice  of  mine.  No  ;  nor  was  it  Winter- 
bourne  either  who  began  it ;  it  was  his  sister.  The  child 
was  given  to  her  charge  when  she  was  about  two  or  three 
years  old,  I  fancy.  Then  they  were  living  in  Lincolnshire  ; 
afterward  they  went  to  France,  and  the  aunt  died  there.  It 
was  she  who  brought  Yolande  up  to  believe  her  mother 
dead  ;  and  then  Winterbourne  put  off  and  put  off  telling  her 
— although  twenty  times  I  remonstrated  with  him — until  he 
found  it  quite  impossible.  He  couldn't  do  it.  Sometimes 
when  I  look  at  her  now  I  scarcely  wonder.  She  seems  such 
a  radiant  kind  of  a  creature  that  I  doubt  whether  I  could 
bring  myself  to  tell  her  that  story — no,  I  could  not — dang 
it !  I  could  not.  And  even  when  I  was  having  rows  with 
Winterbourne,  and  telling  him  what  an  ass  he  was,  and  tell- 
ing him  that  the  torture  he  was  going  through  was  quite 
unnecessary,  why,  maji,  I  thought  there  was  something 
fine  in  it  too ;  and  again  and  again  I  have  watched  him 
when  he  would  sit  and  look  at  Yolande  and  listen  to  all  her 
nonsense,  and  have  seen  his  face  just  filled  with  pleasure 
to  see  her  so  happy  and  careless,  and  then  I  thought  he  had 
his  moments  of  recompense  also.  When  he  goes  about 
with  her  he  forgets  all  that  worry — thank  goodness  for  that ! 
and  certainly  she  is  high-spirited  enough  for  anything. 


184  YOLANDE. 

You  would  think  she  had  never  known  a  care  or  a  trouble 
in  all  her  existence  ;  and  I  suppose  that's  about  the  truth/' 
John  Shortlands  had  grown  quite  eloquent  about  Yo- 
lande — although,  indeed,  he  was  not  much  of  an  orator  in 
the  House ;  and  his  companion  listened  in  silence — in  a 
profound  reverie,  in  fact.  At  last  he  said  slowly, — 

"  I  suppose  there  is  no  necessity  that  I  should  know 
why  the  girl  has  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  her  mother's 
existence?" 

"  Oh,  I  will  tell  you  the  story — miserable  as  it  is.     Well, 
it  is  a  sad  story,  too ;  for  you  can  not  imagine  a  pleasanter 
creature  than  that  was   when   Winterbourne   married   her. 
He  was  older  than  she  was,  but  not  much  :  he  looks  a  good 
deal  older  now  than  he  really  is:  those  years  have  told  on 
him.     It  was  neuralgia  that  began  it ;  she  suffered  horribly. 
Then  some  idiot  advised  her  to  drink  port-wine — I  suppose 
the  very  worst   thing   she  could  have    tried,  for  if  it  is  bad 
for  gout,  it  must  be  bad  for  rheumatism    and  neuralgia  and 
such   things ;  at   least   I   should   think  so.      However,   it 
soothed  her  at  first,  I  suppose,  and  no  doubt  she  took  refuge 
in  it  whenever  a  bad   attack   cai^e   on.     But,  mind  you,  it 
was  not  that  that  played   the  mischief  with  her.     She  did 
take  too  much — I  suppose  she  had  to  go  on  increasing  the 
doses — but  she  had  not  destroyed  her  self-control ;  for  quite 
suddenly   she   went   to   her  husband,   who   had  suspected 
nothing  of  the  kind,  told  him  frankly  that  the  habit  was 
growing  on  her,    and   declared  her  resolution  to  break  the 
thing  off  at  once.     She  did  that.     I  firmly  believe  she  did 
keep  her  resolution  to  the  letter.     But  then  the  poor  wretch 
had  worse  and  worse  agony  to  bear,    and  then  it  was  that 
somebody  or  other — it  wasn't  Winterbourne,  and  he  knew 
nothing  about  it — recommended  her  to  try  small  doses  of 
opium — as  a  sort  of  medicine,  don't  ye  see.     I  think  it  was 
opium,  for  I   am  not   sure   whether   chlorodyne  was  in  use 
just  then  ;  but  all  events  it  was  chlorodyne  soon  afterward  : 
and  it  seems  miraculous  how  women  can  go  on  destroying 
themselves  with  those  infernal   drugs   without  being  found 
out.     I  don't  know  whether  Winterbourne  would  ever  have 
found  it  out;  for  he  is  an  indulgent  sort  of  chap,  and  he 
was  very  fond  of  her ;  but  one  night  there  was  a  scene  at 
dinner.     Then  he  discovered  the  whole  thing.     T*he  child 
was  sent  away  for  fear  of  further  scenes,  and  this  so  terrified 
the  mother  that  she  made  the  most  solemn  promises  never 
to  touch  the  poison  again.     But  by  this  titne — here  is  the 


YO  LANDS.  185 

mischief  of  those  infernal  things — her  power  of  self-control 
11  ad  been  affected.  Man  alive  !  I  can't  tell  ye  what  Winter- 
bourne  had  to  go  through.  His  patience  with  her  was 
superhuman  ;  and  always  the  promise  held  out  to  her  was 
that  Yolande  was  to  be  restored  to  her,  and  sometimes  she 
succeeded  so  well  that  every  one  was  hopeful,  and  she  seemed 
to  have  quite  recovered.  Then  again  there  would  be 
another  relapse,  and  a  wild  struggle  to  conceal  it  from  the 
friends  of  the  family,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  What  a  life 
he  has  led  all  those  years,  trying  to  get  her  to  live  in  some 
safe  retreat  or  other,  and  then  suddenly  finding  that  she 
had  broken  out  again,  and  gone  to  some  people — Romneys 
or  Romfords  the  name  is — who  have  a  most  pernicious  influ- 
ence over  her,  and  can  do  anything  with  her  when  she  is 
in  that  semi-maudlin  state !  Of  course  they  use  her  to 
extort  money  from  Winterbourne ;  and  she  has  drugged 
half  her  wits  away  ;  and  it  is  easy  for  them  to  persuade  her 
that  she  has  been  ill-treated  about  Yolande.  Then  she  will 
go  down  to  the  House,  or  hunt  him  out  at  his  lodgings. 
Oh.  I  assure  you,  I  can't  tell  you  what  has  been  going  on 
all  these  years.  There  is  only  one  fortunate  thing — that 
the  Romfords  are  not  aware  of  the  terror  in  which  he  lives  of 
Yolande  getting  to  know  the  truth,  or  else  they  would  put 
the  screw  on  a  good  deal  more  forcibly,  I  reckon.  As  for 
her,  poor  woman,  she  has  no  idea  of  asking  for  money  for 
herself ;  in  fact,  she  has  plenty.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
money  with  Winterbourne.  His  dread  is  that  she  might 
stumble  on  them  accidentally,  and  Yolande  have  to  be 
told.  That  is  why  he  has  consented  to  her  remaining  all 
these  years  in  France,  though  his  only  delight  is  in  her 
society.  That  is  why  he  won't  let  her  live  in  London,  but 
would  rather  put  himself  to  any  inconvenience  by  her 
living  elsewhere.  That  is  why  he  looks  forward  with  very 
fair  composure  to  a  separation :  Yolande  living  in  peace 
and  quiet  in  this  neighborhood  here,  and  he  left  in  London 
to  take  his  chance  of  a  stone  being  thrown  through  his 
window  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night." 

"  But  that  terrorism  is  perfectly  frightful !  " 
"  How  are  you  to  avoid  it  ? "  said  Shortlands,  coolly. 
**  There  is  the  one  way,  of  course — there  is  the  heroic  remedy. 
Tell  Yolande  the  whole  story ;  and  then,  the  next  time  the 
stone  is  thrown,  summon  the  police,  give  the  woman  in 
charge,  bind  her  over  in  recognizances,  and  have  all  your 


186  YOLANDE. 

names  in  the  next  (Lay's  paper.  Some  men  could  do  that. 
Winterbourne  couldn't ;  he  hasn't  the  nerve.' 

The  answer  to  that  was  a  strange  one.  It  WHS  a  re- 
mark, or  rather  an  exclamation,  that  Melville  seemed  to 
make  almosi  to  himself. 

"  My  God !  not  one  of  them  appears  to  see  what  ought 
to  be  done !  " 

But  the  remark  was  overheard. 

"  What  would  you  do,  then  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  said  Melville — and  John  Shortlands  did  not  ob- 
serve that  the  refined,  intellectual  face  of  his  companion 
grew  a  shade  paler  as  he  spoke — "  I?  I  would  go  straight 
to  the  girl  herself,  and  I  would  say,  4  That  is  the  condition 
in  which  your  mother  is:  it  is  your  duty  to  go  and  save 
her.'  " 

«  Then  let  me  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Melville,"  said  Short- 
lands,  quite  as  warmly,  "  rather  than  bring  such  shame  and 
horror  and  suffering  on  his  daughter,  George  Winterbourne 
would  cut  off  his  fingers  one  by  one.  Why,  man,  you 
don't  understand  what  that  girl  is  to  him — his  very  life ! 
Besides,  everything  has  been  tried.  You  don't  suppose  the 
mother  would  have  been  allowed  to  sink  to  that  state  with- 
out every  human  effort  being  made  to  save  her  ;  and  al- 
ways Yolande  herself  held  out  to  her  as  the  future  reward. 
Now  we  must  be  getting  back,  I  think.  But  I  wish  you 
would  think  over  what  I  have  told  you,  and  let 
Winterbourne  have  your  opinion  as  to  whether  all  this 
should  be  declared  to  your  friend  Leslie.  Winterbourne's 
first  idea  was  that  if  Yolande  were  married  and  settled  in 
the  country — especially  in  such  a  remote  neighborhood  as 
this — there  would  be  no  heed  to  tell  even  her  husband  about 
it.  It  could  not  concern  them.  But  now  he  is  worrying 
himself  to  death  about  other  possibilities.  Supposing 
something  disagreeable  were  to  happen  in  London,  and  the 
family  name  get  into  the  paper,  then  Yolande's  husband 
might  turn  round  and  ask  why  it  had  been  concealed  from 
him.  That  might  be  unpleasant,  you  know.  If  he  were 
not  considerate,  he  might  put  the  blame  on  her.  The  fact 
is,  Winterbourne  has  had  his  nervous  system  so  pulled  to 
pieces  by  all  this  fear  and  secrecy  and  anxiety  that  he  ex- 
aggerates things  tremendously,  and  keeps  speculating  on 
dangers  never  likely  to  occur.  Why,  he  can't  shoot  half 
as  well  as  he  used  to  ;  he  is  always  imagining  something  is 
going  to  happen,  and  he  does  not  take  half  his  chances, 


YOLAA'DE.  1S7 

just  for  fear  of  missing,  and  being  mortified  after.     He  has 
not  had  a  pleasant  time  of  it  these  many  years." 

They  turned  now,  and  leisurely  made  their  way  back  to 
the  lodge.  The  red  sunset  still  flared  up  the  glen  ;  bnt  now 
it  was  behind  them,  and  it  was  a  soft  warm  color  that  they 
saw  spreading  over  the  heather  slopes  of  the  hills,  and  the 
wooded  corries,  and  the  little  plateau  between  the  conver 
gent  steams. 

11  May  I  ask  your  own  opinion,  Mr.  Shortlands."  said 
Melville,  after  a  time,  "  as  to  whether  this  thing  should  be 
kept  back  from  Leslie  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  that  would  depend  pretty  much  on 
his  character,"  was  the  answer,  "and  as  to  that  I  know 
very  little.  My  own  inclination  would  be  for  having  a  frank 
disclosure  all  round  ;  but  still  I  see  what  Winterbourne  has 
to  say  for  himself,  and  I  can  not  imagine  how  the  existence 
of  this  poor  woman  could  concern  either  your  friend  Leslie 
or  his  wife.  Probably  they  would  never  hear  a  word  of  her. 
She  can't  live  long.  She  must  have  destroyed  her  constitu- 
tion completely.  Poor  wretch !  one  can't  help  pitying  her  ; 
and  at  the  same  time,  you  know,  it  would  be  a  great  relief  if 
she  were  dead,  both  to  herself  and  her  relatives.  Of  course, 
if  Mr.  Leslie  were  a  finical  sort  of  person — I  am  talking  in 
absolute  confidence,  you  know,  and  in  ignorance  as  well — 
he  might  make  some  objection  ;  but  if  he  were  a  man  with 
a  good  sound  base  of  character,  he  would  say,  '  Well,  what 
does  that  matter  to  me  ?  "  and  he  would  have  some  con- 
sideration for  what  Mr.  Winterbourne  has  gone  through  in 
order  to  keep  this  trouble  concealed  from  the  girl,  and  would 
himself  be  as  willing  to  conceal  it  from  her." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  said  Melville,  after  a  minute's  pause, 
*'  that  the  mere  fact  that  he  might  make  some  objection  is  a 
reason  why  he  should  be  informed  at  once  ?  " 

"  Is  he  an  ass  ?  "  said  John  Shortlands,  bluntly.  "  Is 
he  a  worrying  sort  of  creature?" 

4'  Oh,  not  at  all.  He  is  remarkably  sensible — very  sensible. 
He  will  take  a  perfectly  calm  view  of  the  situation  :  you  may 
depend  on  that." 

"  Other-  things  being  equal,  I  am  for  his  being  tolJ — 
most  distinctly.  If  he  has  common-sense,  there  need  be 
no  trouble.  On  the  other  hand,  you  know,  if  you  should 
think  we  are  making  a  fuss  where  none  is  necessary,  I  have 
a  notion  that  Winterbourne  would  be  satisfied  by  your 
judgment,  as  an  intimate  friend  of  Leslie's." 


188  YOLANDE. 

"  But  that  is  putting  rather  a  serious  responsibility  on 
me.  Supposing  it  is  decided  to  say  nothing  about  the  matter, 
then  I  should  be  in  the  awkward  position  of  knowing  some- 
thing affecting  Leslie's  domestic  affairs  of  which  he  would 
be  ignorant." 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  quite  see  that.  But  if  you  are  afraid 
of  accepting  the  responsiblity,  there's  an  easy  way  out  of  it. 
I  will  go  and  tell  it  myself,  and  have  it  over.  I  have  already 
broken  away  from  Winterbourne's  shilly-shallying  by  speak- 
ing to  you ;  he  would  never  have  done  it,  and  he  is  worrying 
himself  into  his  grave.  He  is  a  timid  and  sensitive  fellow. 
Pie  now  thinks  he  should  have  told  the  Master,  as  he  calls 
him,  when  he  first  proposed  for  Yolande,  and  perhaps  it 
might  have  been  better  to  do  so  ;  but  I  can  see  how  he  was 
probably  well  inclined  to  the  match  for  various  reasons,  and 
anxious  not  to  put  any  imaginary  stumbling-block  in  the, 
way.  But  now  if  you  were  to  go  to  him  and  say,  '  Well, I 
have  heard  the  whole  story.  It  can't  concern  either  Yolande 
or  her  future  husband.  Forget  the  whole  thing,  and  don't 
worry  any  more  about  it,  1  do  believe  he  would  recover 
his  peace  of  mind,  for  he  has  confidence  in  your  judg- 
ment." 

"  It  would  be  rather  a  serious  thing." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  I  must  take  time  to  turn  the  matter  over." 

"  Oh,  certainly." 

They  had  now  reached  the  bridge,  and  happening  to  look 
up  they  saw  that  Yolande  had  come  to  the  door  of  the  lodge, 
and  was  standing  there,  and  waving  a  handkerchief  to  them 
as  a  sign  to  make  haste.  And  what  a  pretty  picture  she  made 
as  she  stood  there  ! — the  warm  light  from  the  west  aglow 
upon  the  tall  English-looking  figure  clad  in  a  light-hued 
costume,  and  giving  color  to  the  fair,  freckled  face,  and  the 
ruddy  gold  aureole  of  her  hair.  Melville's  eyes  lighted  up 
u-ith  pleasure  at  the  very  sight  of  her ;  it  was  but  natural — 
bhe  was  like  a  vision. 

"  All,"  said  she,  shaking  her  finger  at  them  as  they  went 
up  the  path,  "  you  aro  wicked  men.  Seven  minutes  late 
already  ;  and  if  the  two-pounder  that  Mr.  Melville  brought 
for  me  has  fallen  all  to  pieces  you  must  have  yourselves  to 
blame — that  is  true." 

"  I  wish,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  Jack  Melville,  "  that 
some  noble  creature  would  give  me  a  day's  salmon-fishing. 
Then  I  could  bring  you  something  better  than  loch  trout." 


YOLANDE.  189 

"  Oh  no,"  she  answered  imperiously,"  I  will  not  have 
anything  said  against  the  loch  trout.  No,  I  am  sure  there 
is  nothing  ever  so  good  as  what  you  get  from  your  own 
place — nothing.  Papa  says  that  never,  never  did  he  have 
such  cutlets  as  those  from  the  roe-deer  that  he  shot  las* 
week." 

"I  can  tell  you,  Miss  Yolande,"  said  John  Shorthands, 
"  that  others  besides  your  father  fully  appreciated  those 
cutlets.  The  whole  thing  depends  on  whether  you  have 
got  a  smart  young  housekeeper ;  and  I  have  it  in  my  head 
now  that.  I  am  going  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  days  at  Allt- 
nam-Ba;  and  I  will  engage  you,  on  your  own  terms — name 
them;  you  shall  have  the  money  down;  and  then  I  will 
have  Duncan  compose  a  march  for  me  ;  why  should  it  be 
always  'Melville's  Welcome  Home'?" 

"  But  you  are  also  to  have  the  '  Barren  Rocks  of  Aden' 
to-night,"  said  she,  brightly.  "  I  told  Duncan  it  was  your 
favorite.  Now  come  along — come  along — oh,  dear  me!  it 
is  ten  minutes  late  !  " 

Jack  Melville  was  rather  silent  that  night  at  dinner. 
And  always — when  he  could  make  perfetly  certain  that  her 
eyes  were  cast  down,  or  turned  in  the  direction  of  John 
Shortlands  or  of  her  father — he  was  studying  Yolande's 
face ;  and  sometimes  he  would  recall  the  phrase  that  Mrs. 
Bell  had  used  on  the  first  occasion  she  had  seen  this  young 
lady,  or  rather,  immediately  after  parting  with  her,  "  She's 
a  braw  lass,  that;  I  fear  she  will  make  some  man's  heart 
sore;"  and  then  again  he  kept  wondering  and  speculating 
as  to  what  possible  strength  of  will  and  womanly  character 
there  might  lie  behind  those  fair,  soft,  girlish  features. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    PEACEMAKER. 


PRETTY  Mrs.  Graham  was  standing  in  her  room  at  In- 
verstroy,  ready  to  go  out;  her  husband  was  in  the  adjacent 
dressing-room,  engaged  in  the  operation  of  shaving. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  Jim,"  said  the  young  matron ; 
"  everything  lias  been  arranged.  Everything  will  go  quite 


190  YOLANDE. 

right  till  I  come  back.  And  Archie  is  to  meet  me  at  Fort 
Augustus,  so  that  the  ponies  won't  have  the  long  pull  up 
Glendoe." 

"  Why  can't  he  manage  his  own  affairs  ? "  the  stout- 
warrior  grumbled. 

"Aunt  Colquhoun  isn't  easy  to  get  on  with,"  she  said. 
"And  I  am  beginning  to  feel  anxious.     What  would  you 
Fay  to  his  getting  spiteful,  and  running  away  with  Shena 
Van  f  " 
"  Stuff !  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  If  I  chose  I  could  show  you  some- 
thing I  cut  out  of  the  Inverness  Courier  about  three  years 
ago.  Well,  I  will  show  it  to  you." 

She  went  to  a  drawer  in  her  wardrobe,  and  hunted 
about  for  a  time  until  she  found  the  newspaper  cutting, 
which  she  brought  back  and  put  before  him  on  the  dressing- 
table.  This  was  what  he  took  up  and  read, — 

"  FOB  SHENA'S  NEW-YEAR'S  DAT  MORNING 

"  Her  eyes  are  dark  and  soft  and  blue, 

She's  light-stepped  as  the  roe  : 
O  Shena,  Shena,  my  heart  is  true 
To  you  where'er  you  go. 

"  I  wish  that  I  were  by  the  rills 

Above  the  Allt-cam-ban ; 
And  wandering  with  me  o'er  the  hills, 
My  own  dear  Shena  Van. 

"Far  other  sights  and  scenes  I  view: 

The  year  goes  out  in  snow : 
O  Shena,  Shena,  my  heart  is  true 
To  you  where'er  you  go." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  contemptuously  throwing  down  again 
the  piece  of  paper,  "  you  don't  suppose  Archie  wrote  that 
rubbish  ?  That  isn't  his  line." 

"  It's  a  line  that  most  lads  take  at  a  certain  age,r'eaid 
Mrs.  Graham,  shrewdly. 

«'  More  likely  some  moonstruck  ploughboy  !  "  her  hus- 
band interjected;  for  indeed  he  did  not  seem  to  think 
much  of  those  verses,  which  she  regarded  with  some  fond- 
ness. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  she,  looking  at  the  lines,  "  that  the 
ploughboys  in  this  part  of  the  world  don't  know  quite  as 
much  English  as  all  that  comes  to.  And  how  many  people 


YOLANDE.  191 

do  you  think  now,  Jim,  have  ever  hoard  of  the  Allt-cam- 
ban  ?  And  then  Skena,  how  many  people  have  ever  heard 
of  Janet  Stewart's  nickname?  There  is  another  thing. 
Those  verses  appeared  when  Archie  was  at  Edinburgh,  and 
of  course  he  knew  very  well  that,  although  he  was  not 
.-illowed  to  write  to  her,  the  Inverness  Courier  will  make 
'is  way  into  the  manse.  1  think  they  are  very  pretty. 

'  O  Shena,  Shena,  my  heart  is  true 
To  you  where'er  you  go.' 

That  is  the  worst  of  marrying  an  old  man.  They  never 
write  poetry  about  you." 

"  You  call  that  poetry  !  "  he  said. 

"  Well,  good-by,  Jim.  I  will  tell  Mackenzie  when  he  is 
to  meet  me  at  Fort  Augustus." 

"Bring  back  Yolande  Winterbourne  with  you,"  said 
Colonel  Graham,  who  had  now  about  finished  his  toilette. 

"Ho  wean  I,  without  asking  her  father?  And  there 
wouldn't  be  room." 

u  I  don't  want  her  father.  I  want  her.  There  is  no 
fun  in  having  a  whole  houseful  of  married  women." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you.  And  who  wanted  them  ? 
Certainly  not  I.  There  is  only  one  thing  more  absurd  than 
having  nothing  but  married  women  in  the  house,  and  that 
is  having  nothing  but  married  men.  But  you  have  had  a 
warning  this  year,  Jim.  Everybody  acknowledges  that 
there  never  was  such  bad  shooting.  I  hope  another  year 
you  will  get  one  or  two  younger  men  who  know  what 
shooting  is,  and  who  can  climb.  Well,  good-by,  Jirn.'r 
And  presently  pretty  Mrs.  Graham  was  seated  in  a  light 
little  \vagonette  of  polished  oak,  the  reins  in  her  hand,  and 
a  pair  of  stout  little  ponies  trotting  away  down  through  the 
wooded  and  winding  deeps  of  Glenstroy. 

It  was  a  long  drive  to  Fort  Augustus ;  and  although 
from  time  to  time  a  refrain  went  echoing  through  her 
head, — 

"  O  Shena,  Shena,  my  heart  is  true 
To  you  where'er  you  go," 

and  apparently  connecting  itself  somehow  with  the  patter- 
ing of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  road,  still  her  brain  was  far 
from  being  idle.  This  expedition  was  entirely  of  her  own 
proper  choice  and  motion.  In  truth  she  had  been  alarmed 
by  the  very  fact  that  the  Master  of  Lvnn  had  ceased  to  wish 


192  YOLANDE. 

for  her  interference.  He  had  refused  to  urge  his  case  fur- 
ther. If  the  people  at  Lynn  Towers  were  blind  to  their  own 
interests,  they  might  remain  so.  He  was  not  going  to  argue 
and  stir  up  domestic  dissension.  He  would  not  allow  Yo- 
lande's  name  to  be  drawn  into  any  such  brawl ;  and  .certainly 
he  would  not  suffer  any  discussion  of  herself  or  her  merits. 
All  this  Mrs.  Graham  gathered  vaguely  from  one  or  two 
letters,  and  as  she  considered  the  situation  as  being  obviously 
dangerous,  she  had,  at  great  inconvenience  to  herself,  left 
her  house  full  of  guests,  and  was  now  about  to  see  what 
could  be  done  at  I  ynn  Towers. 

When  she  reached  Fort  Augustus,  Archie  Leslie  was 
waiting  for  her  there  at  the  hotel,  and  she  found  him  in  the 
same  mood.  He  did  not  wish  to  have  anything  said  about 
the  matter.  He  professed  to  be  indifferent.  He  assumed 
that  his  sister  had  come  on  an  ordinary  filial  visit,  and  he 
had  luncheon  ready  for  her.  He  said  she  was  looking  pret- 
tier than  ever ;  and  was  anxious  to  know  whether  they  had 
done  well  with  the  shooting  at  Investroy. 

"  Now  look  here,  Archie,"  said  she,  when  the  waiter  had 
finally  left  the  room,  "  let  us  understand  each  other.  You 
know  what  I  have  come  about — at  some  trouble  to  myself. 
There  is  no  use  in  your  making  the  thing  more  difficult  than 
needs  be.  And  you  know  perfectly  well  that  matters  can- 
not remain  as  they  are." 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  that  matters  cannot  remain  as 
they  are,"  he  repeated,  with  some  touch  of  irony,  "  for  this 
excellent  reason,  that  in  the  course  of  time  the  Winter- 
bournes  will  be  going  south,  and  that  as  Mr.  Winterbourne 
has  never  been  within  the  doors  of  Lynn  Towers,  and  isn't 
likely  to  be,  he  will  draw  his  own  conclusions.  Probably  he 
has  done  so  already.  I  haven't  seen  much  of  him  since  his 
friend  Shortlands  came.  Very  likely  he  already  under- 
stands why  our  family  have  taken  no  notice  of  them,  and  I 
know  he  is  too  proud  a  man  to  allow  his  daughter  to  be 
mixed  up  in  any  domestic  squabble.  They  will  go  south. 
That  will  be—  Good-by." 

"  But,  my  dear  Master,"  his  sister  protested,  "  if  you 
would  only  show  a  little  conciliation — " 

"What!  "he  said,  indignantly.  "Do  you  think  lam 
going  to  beg  for  an  invitation  for  Mr.  Winterbourne?  Do 
you  expect  me  to  go  and  ask  that  Yolande  should  be  re- 
ceived  at  Lynn  Towers  ?  I  think  not!  I  don't  quite  seo 
my  way  to  tlia.t  yet." 


193 

"You  needn't  be  angry — " 

"But  it  is  so  absurd  1  "  he  exclaimed.  "What  have 
Winterbourne's  politics  to  do  with  Yolande?  Supposing 
lie  wanted  to  blow  up  the  House  of  Lords  with  dynamite, 
what  has  that  got  to  do  with  her?  Jt  is  Burke's  Peerage 
that  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  nonsense.  If  every  blessed 
copy  of  that  book  were  burned  out  of  the  world,  they 
wouldn't  have  another  word  to  say.  It  is  the  fear  of  see- 
ing'daughter  of  Mr.  Winterbourne,  M.  P.  for  Slag-pool, ' 
that  is  setting  them  crazy.  That  comes  of  living  out  of  the 
world  ;  that  comes  of  being  toadied  by  gillies  and  town 
councillors.  But  I  am  not  going  to  trouble  about  it,"  said 
he,  with  a  sudden  air  of  indifference.  "  I  am  not  going  to 
make  a  fuss.  They  can  go  their  way  ;  I  can  go  mine." 

"  Yes,  and  the  Winterbournes  will  go  theirs,"  said  his 
sister,  sharply. 

"  Very  well." 

"  But  it  is  not  very  well ;  it  is  very  ill.  Come  now, 
Archie,  be  reasonable.  You  know  the  trouble  1  had  before 
I  married  Jim ;  it  was  got  over  by  a  little  patience  and  dis- 
cretion." 

"  Oh,  if  you  think  I  am  going  to  cringe  and  crawl  about 
for  their  consent,  you  are  quite  mistaken.  I  would  not  put 
Yolande  Winterbourne  into  such  a  position.  Why,"  said 
he,  with  some  sense  of  injury  in  his  tone,  "  I  like  the  way 
they  talk — as  if  they  were  asked  to  sacrifice  something !  If 
there  is  any  sacrifice  in  the  case,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am 
making  it,  not  they.  I  am  doing  what  I  think  best  for  Lynn, 
that  has  always  been  starved  for  want  of  money.  Very 
well ;  if  they  don't  like  it,  they  can  leave  it  alone.  I  am  not 
going  to  beg  for  any  favor  in  the  matter." 

"  It  might  be  as  wrell  not  to  talk  of  any  sacrifice,"  said 
his  sister,  quietly,  and  yet  with  some  significance.  "I  don't 
think  there  will  be  much  sacrifice.  Well,  now,  I'm  ready, 
Archie  :  what  have  you  brought — the  dogcart  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

Shortly  thereafter  they  set  out  for  Lynn  ;  and  they  did 
not  resume  this  conversation ;  for  as  they  had  to  climb  the 
steep  road  leading  into  Glendoe,  the  Blaster  got  down  and 
walked,  leaving  the  reins  to  his  sister.  They  passed  through 
the  deep  woods,  and  up  and  out  on  to  the  open  heights.  They 
skirted  the  solitary  little  lake  that  lies  in  a  mountain-cup 
up  there.  And  then,  in  iue  time,  they  came  in  sight  of  the 


104  YOLANDE 

inland  country — a  board  and  variegated  plain,  with  here 
and  there  a  farmhouse  or  village. 

They  came  in  sight  of  something  else  too — the  figure  of 
a  young  woman  who  was  coming  along  the  road.  Mrs. 
Graham's  eyes  were  fixed  on  that  solitary  person  for  some 
time  before  she  exclaimed, — 

"Archie,  do  you  see  who  that  is?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  he,  not  with  the  best  grace. 

"  It  is  she,  isn't  it?  "  she  said,  eagerly. 

"  I  suppose  you  can  see  that  for  yourself,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Perhaps  it  isn't  the  first  time  to-day  that  you  have  met 
her?"  said  she,  looking  up  with  a  qnick  scrutiny. 

"  If  you  want  to  know,  I  have  not  set  eyes  on  her  since 
last  Christmas.  She  has  been  living  in  Inverness." 

He  pulled  up.  This  young  lady  whom  they  now  stop]  KM  I 
to  speak  to  was  a  good-looking  girl  of  about  twenty,  with 
light  brown  hair  and  very  dark  blue  eyes.  There  was  some 
firmness  and  shrewdness  of  character  in  the  face,  despite 
the  shyness  that  was  also  very  visible  there.  For  the  rest, 
she  was  neatly  dressed — in  something  of  a  town  style. 

She  merely  nodded  to  the  Master,  who  took  off  his  hat ; 
but  as  she  was  on  Mrs.  Graham's  side  of  the  dog  cart,  she 
shook  hands  with  that  lady,  and  her  bright,  fresh-colored 
upturned  face  had  something  of  diffidence  or  self-conscious- 
ness in  it. 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Miss  Stewart  ?  It  is  such  a  long 
time  since  I  have  seen  you?"  said  Mrs.  Graham. 

"  You  do  not  come  often  to  Lynn  now,  Mrs.  Graham," 
said  Miss  Stewart,  with  just  a  touch  of  a  very  pretty  accent, 
"and  I  have  been  living  in  Inverness." 

"  Oh,  indeed.     And  how  are  the  people  at  the  manse?  " 

They  chatted  in  the  ordinary  fashion  for  a  few  minutes, 

and  then  the  Master  of  Lynn  drove  on   again — in  silence. 

Mrs.  Graham  ventured   to   repeat,   apparently  to  herself, 

though  he  must  have  overheard, 

"  And  wandering  with  me  o'er  the  hills, 
My  own  dear  Shena  Van  ; " 

but  if  he  did  overhear,  he  took  no  notice,  and  certainly  he 
betrayed  neither  confusion  nor  annoyance.  Perhaps  the 
verses  were  not  his,  after  all?  The  minister's  daughter 
was  the  belle  of  those  parts ;  she  had  had  many  admirers  ; 


YOLANDE.  105 

and  the  It  verness  Courier  was  the  nntnr.il  medium  for  the 
expression  of  their  woes.  Still,  Mrs.  Graham  asked  herself 
how  many  people  in  the  world  knew  of  the  existence  of  the 
Allt-eam-Ban,  far  away  in  the  solitudes  over  Allt-nnm-ba. 

Mrs.  Graham,  as  it  turned  out,  had  a  terrible  time  of  it 
with  her  father.  This  short,  thickset  man  with  the  volumi 
nous  brown  and  gray  beard,  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  bald 
head  surmounted  by  a  black  velvet  skull-cap,  was  simply 
furious  ;  and  so  far  from  being  affected  in  any  degree  by 
his  daughter's  blandishments,  he  seemed  inclined  to  direct 
his  wrath  upon  her  as  the  chief  aider  and  abettor  of  her 
brother's  high  treason.  Nor  was  his  lordship's  language 
marked  by  much  gentleness  or  reticence. 

"  The  idea,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  Doch four,  and  Lochiel, 
and  Culloden,  and  the  rest  of  them,  might  have  to  rub 
shoulders  with  a  low,  scoundrelly  liadical!  The  mere 
chance  of  such  a  thing  happening  is  monstrous." 

"  I  beg  to  remind  you,  papa,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  with 
her  face  grown  a  little  pale,  "that  my  husband  is  not  in  the 
habit  of  associating  with  low  scoundrels  of  any  kind.  And 
I  would  rather  not  hear  such  things  said  about  the  father  of 
my  particular  friend." 

Then  she  saw  that  that  line  would -not  do. 

"Papa,"  she  pleaded,  "a  little  civility  costs  nothing. 
Why  should  you  not  call?  You  must  have  known  it  was 
this  Mr.  Winterbourne  who  had  taken  the  shooting  when 
we  telegraphed  you  from  Malta." 

"  I  must  have  known  ?  I  did  know  !  What  has  that  to 
do  with  it  ?  I  do  not  let  my  friendship  with  my  shootings. 
What  my  tenant  may  be  is  nothing  to  me,  so  long  as  he 
can  pay ;  and  he  is  welcome  to  everything  he  can  find  on 
the  shooting ;  but  it  does  not  follow  he  is  entitled  to  sit 
down  at  my  table,  or  that  I  shall  sit  down  at  his." 

"But  you  were  very  kind  to  Yolande  Winterbourne 
when  she  came  up  at  first,  and  you  knew  whose  daughter 
she  was,"  pretty  Mrs.  Graham  pleaded  again. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  that  young  jackass  proposed  to 
make  her  one  of  the  family — it  is  too  great  an  honor  alto- 
gether." 

"  You  know,  papa,  it  is  such  a  pity  to  make  trouble 
when  it  is  not  likely  to  help.  Archie  can  marry  whom  he 
pleases — " 

"  Let  him,  and   welcome  !  "  said  this  fierce  old  gentle- 


196  YOLAKDE. 

man.  "He  can  marry  whom  be  plenaes,  bnt  he  cannot 
compel  me  to  associate  with  his  wife's  father." 

She  went  away  somewhat  crestfallen,  and  sought  out 
the  Master,  whom  she  found  in  one  of  the  greenhouses. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  smile,  for  he  had  anticipated 
the  result. 

"  His  lordship  does  seem  opinionated  about  it,"  she  had 
to  confess.  "  And  yet  I  think  I  could  talk  him  over  if  only 
Aunt  Colquhoun  were  absent.  I  suppose  she  will  be  back 
from  Foyers  by  dinner-time." 

"  I  wish  she  were  sewn  in  a  sack,  and  at  the  bottom  of 
Loch  Ness,"  said  he. 

"Archie,  for  shame!  You  see,"  she  added,  thought- 
fully, "  I  must  get  back  to  Fort  Augustus  by  four  to-morrow 
afternoon.  And  I  haven't  come  all  this  way  without  being 
resolved  to  see  Yolande  before  I  go.  That  leaves  me  little 
time.  But  still — .  Have  you  asked  Mr.  Melville  to  speak 
to  papa ?  " 

"No.  Jack  Melville  and  I  nearly  quarrelled  over  it,  so 
I  dropped  the  subject.  He  doesn't  understand  matters, 
don't  you  know,  Polly ;  he  doesn't  understand  what  the 
improvement  of  a  poor  estate  costs.  He  has  forgotten  his 
Horace — pennis  non  homini  datis — that  means  that  human 
beings  aren't  born  with  enough  money.  He  made  quite  a 
fuss  when  I  showed  him  that  there  were  prudential  reasons 
for  the  match,  as  if  there  were  any  use  in  blinding  one's 
eyes  to  obvious  facts.  Well,  I  don't  care.  I  have  done  my 
best.  My  intentions  toward  Lynn  were  sincere  and  honor- 
able ;  now  they  can  make  a  hash  of  the  whole  thing  if  they 
like." 

"  It  is  folly  speaking  like  that,"  his  sister  said,  sharply. 
"  Surely  you  have  too  much  spirit  to  yield  to  a  little  oppo- 
sition of  this  kind." 

"A  little  opposition  !"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "It's 
about  as  bulky  as  Borlum  Hill ;  and  I  for  one  am  not  go- 
ing to  ram  my  head  against  it.  I  prefer  a  quiet  life." 

"  But  you  are  bound  in  honor  to  Yolande  Winter- 
bourne  not  to  let  the  engagement  cease,"  she  cried.  "  Why, 
to  think  of  such  a  thing  !  You  ask  a  girl  to  marry  you  ; 
she  consents ;  and  then  you  throw  her  over  because  this 
person  or  that  person  objects.  Well,  I  never  heard  of  one 
of  the  Leslies  acting  that  way  before.  I  was  only  a  girl, 
but  I  showed  them  what  stuff  I  was  made  of  when  they 
tried  to  interfere  with  me." 


YOLANDE.  197 

u  Oh,  but  that's  different,"  he  said,  coolly.  "Girls  are 
romantic  creatures.  They  rather  like  a  shindy.  Whereas 
men  prefer  a  quiet  life." 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that—" 

"  Wait  a  minute.  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you  plainly, 
Polly,"  said  he.  "I  wanted  to  marry  Janet  Stewart;  and 
I  dare  say  she  would  have  had  me  if  I  had  definitely  asked 
lu-r— " 

"  I  dare  say  she  would." 

l<  Oh,  you  think  she  hasn't  as  much  pride  as  anybody 
else  because  she  is  only  a  minister's  daughter  ?  That  is 
all  you  know  about  her.  However,  they  all  made  such  a 
row,  and  you  especially,  that  I  consented  to  let  the  affair 
go.  No  doubt  that  was  wise.  I  was  young.  She  had  no 
money,  and  Lynn  wanted  money.  Very  well.  I  made  no 
objection.  But  you  will  observe,  my  dear  Miss  Polly, 
that  when  these  stumbling-blocks  are  again  and  again  put 
into  the  road,  even  the  most  patient  of  animals  may  begin 
to  get  fractious,  and  might  even  kick  over  the  traces.  At 
present  I  hope  I  am  not  in  a  rage.  But  I  arn  older  now 
than  I  was  then,  and  not  in  the  least  bit  inclined  to  be 
made  a  fool  of." 

"And  do  you  really  mean  to  say,"  said  Mrs.  Graham, 
with  her  pretty  dark  gray  eyes  regarding  him  with  aston- 
ishment, "that  you  are  deliberately  prepared  to  jilt  Yo- 
lande  Winterbourne  merely  on  account  of  this  little  diffi- 
culty ?  » 

"  It  isn't  my  doing,"  said  he.  "  Besides,  they  seem  bent 
on  piling  up  about  three  cart-loads  of  difficulty.  Life  isn't 
long  enough  to  begin  and  shovel  that  away.  And  if  they 
don't  want  to  have  Corrievreak  back,  I  dare  say  Sir  John 
will  be  quite  willing  to  keep  it." 

"  I  don't  think  I  will  speak  to  papa  again  until  after 
dinner,"  said  she,  musingly.  "Then  I  will  have  another 
try — with  Corrievreak." 


198  YOLANDE. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    AMBASSADOR. 

Now  Jack  Melville,  or  Melville  of  Monaglcn,  as  Mrs. 
Bell  (with  her  own  dark  purposes  always  in  view)  proudly 
preferred  to  call  him,  had  not  only  decided  that  the  Mas- 
ter of  Lynn  should  know  that  Yolande's  mother  was  alive, 
but  he  had  also  undertaken  himself  to  tell  him  all  the  facts 
of  the  case,  to  Mr.  Winterbourne's  great  relief.  Accord- 
ingly, one  afternoon  he  gave  the  school-children  a  half- 
holiday,  and  walked  over  to  Lynn.  He  met  the  Master  at 
the  wooden  bridge  adjoining  Lynn  Towers,  and  also  the 
dog-cart  conveying  Mrs.  Graham  back  to  Fort  Augustus. 

"There  she  goes,"  said  young  Leslie,  sardonically,  as 
lie  regarded  the  disappearing  vehicle.  "She  is  a. well-in-, 
tentioned  party.  She  thinks  she  can  talk  people  over. 
She  thinks  that  when  people  are  in  a  temper  they  will  lis- 
ten to  common-sense.  And  she  hasn't  even  now  learned  a 
lesson.  She  thinks  she  would  have  succeeded  witli  more 
time  ;  but  of  course  she  has  to  get  back  to  Inverstroy. 
And  she  still  believes  she  would  have  had  her  own  way  "if 
she  had  had  a  day  or  two  to  spare." 

"  What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  the  other,  carelessly.  ''Only 
his  lordship  in  a  fury  at  the  idea  of  my  marrying  the 
daughter  of  a  Radical.  And  of  course  it  isn't  the  slightest 
use  pointing  out  that  Mr.  Winterbourne's  Radicalism  gen- 
erally consists  in  opposing  what  is  really  a  Radical  govern- 
ment ;  and  it  isn't  the  slightest  use  pointing  out  that  poli- 
tics don't  run  in  the  blood,  and  that  Yolande  has  no  more 
\\5sh  to  destroy  the  British  Constitution  than  I  have.  How- 
ever, what  is  the  consequence?  They  can  fight  it  out 
amongst  themselves." 

But  Melville  did  not  seem  inclined  to  treat  the  matter 
in  this  offhand  way.  His  thoughtful  face  was  more  grave 
than  was  its  wont.  After  a  second  or  two  he  said, — 

"  Look  here,  Archie,  I  have  got  something  to  say  to  you. 
Will  you  walk  along  the  strath  a  bit?" 

u  Vou  are  going  to   try  the   loch9"  suiJ  the  Master, 


YOLAXDE.  199 

observing  that  his  companion  had  his  fishing-rod  under  his 
arm. 

"  Yes,  for  an  hour  or  so,  if  they  are  rising." 

"  I  will  come  and  manage  the  boat  for  you,  then,"  said 
the  other,  good-naturedly. 

"  Then  we  can  go  on  together  to  Allt-nam-Ba.  You 
are  dining  there,  I  suppose." 

"  Well,  no,"  said  young  Leslie,  with  a  trifle  of  embar- 
rassment. 

"But  I  was  told  I  should  meet  you." 

"  I  was  asked.  Well,  you  see,  the  lodge  is  small,  and  it 
isn't  fair  to  overcrowd  it,  and  give  Yolandc  so  much  more 
Housekeeping  trouble.  Then  Macpherson  may  come  down 
from  Inverness  any  afternoon  almost  to  arrange  about  tho 
Glendyerg  march.  We  have  come  to  a  compromise  about 
that — anything  is  better  than  a  lawsnit — and  the  gully  just 
above  the  watcher's  bothy  remains  ours,  which  is  the  chief 
thing." 

But  Melville  was  not  to  be  put  off.  He  knew  this 
young  man. 

"  What  it  the  real  reason  of  your  not  going  up  to  Allt- 
nam-Ba  this  evening?  " 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  want  to  know.  The  real 
reason  is  that  my  people  have  treated  the  Winterbournes 
badly,  and  I  am  ashamed  of  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  go  near 
the  place  more  than  I  can  help.  If  they  imagine  we  are  all 
very  busy  at  Lynn,  that  may  be  some  excuse  for  neither  my 
father  nor  my  aunt  having  had  the  common  civility  to  call 
at  the  lodge.  But  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Winterbourne  suspects 
the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  of  course  that  puts  me  into 
rather  a  difficult  position  when  I  am  at  Allt-nam-Ba  ;  and 
when  you  see  a  difficult  position  before  you,  the  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  not  to  step  into  it." 

"  And  do  you  expect  everything  to  be  made  smooth  and 
comfortable  for  you  ?  "  said  Melville,  almost  angrily.  "  Don't 
you  expect  to  have  any  trouble  at  all  in  the  world  ?  When 
you  meet  the  difficulties  of  life,  is  your  only  notion  to  turn 
away  and  run  from  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  fast  as  I  can  and  as  far  as  I  can.  Look  here, 
Jack,  different  people  have  different  views :  it  doesn'^ 
follow  that  you  are  right  because  you  look  at  things  not  as 
I  do.  You  think  common-sense  contemptible;  I  think 
Quixotism  contemptible ;  it  cuts  both  ways,  you  see.  I  say 
distinctly  that  a  man  who  accepts  trouble  when  he  can  avoid 


i>00  YOLANDE. 

it  is  an  ass.  I  know  there  are  lots  of  women  who  like  woe, 
who  relish  it  and  revel  in  it.  There  are  lots  of  women  who 
enjoy  nothing  so  much  as  a  funeral — the  blinds  all  down,  a 
mysterious  gloom  in  the  rooms,  and  weeping  relations  forti- 
fying themselves  all  day  long  against  their  grief  by  drinking 
glasses  of  muddy  port  wine  and  eating  buns.  Well,  I  don't. 
I  don't  like  woe.  I  believe  in  what  a  young  Scotch  fellow 
said  to  me  one  morning  on  board  ship  when  we  were  on 
the  way  out — I  think  he  was  a  bagman  from  Glasgow — at 
nil  events  he  came  up  to  me  with  an  air  of  profound  con- 
viction on  his  face,  and  said, '  Man,  it's  a  seeckening  thing  to 
be  seeck  ! '  Well,  that  is  the  honest  way  of  looking  at  it. 
And  although  I  am  arguing  not  so  much  with  you  as 
with  Polly,  still  I  may  as  well  say  to  you  what  I  said  to 
her  when  she  wanted  me  to  do  this,  that,  and  the  other 
thing:  4  No  ;  if  those  people  don't  see  it  would  be  to  their 
interest  and  to  everybody's  interest  that  this  marriage  should 
take  place,  they  are  welcome  to  their  opinion.  I  sha'n't  in- 
terfere. I  don't  mean  to  have  any  domestic  squabble  if  I 
can  help  it.  I  prefer  a  quiet  life.'  " 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  boat,  which  they 
dragged  down  to  the  water  and  shoved  oft',  the  Master  of 
Lynn  good-naturedly  taking  the  oars.  It  was  a  pleasant, 
warm  afternoon,  and  it  looked  a  likely  afternoon  for  fishing 
besides ;  but  it  was  in  a  very  silent  and  absent  fashion  that 
Jack  Melville  put  his  rod  together  and  began  to  look  over 
his  casts.  This  speech  of  the  young  Master's  was  no  reve- 
lation to  him  ;  he  had  known  all  that  before.  But,  coining 
in  just  at  this  moment,  it  seemed  to  make  the  task  he  had 
undertaken  more  and  more  difficult  and  dangerous ;  and 
indeed  there  flashed  across  his  mind  once  or  twice  some 
wild  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  decision,  although  that 
decision  had  not  been  arrived  at  without  long  and  anxious 
consideration. 

And  it  was  in  a  very  perfunctory  way  that  he  began  to 
throw  out  the  flies  upon  the  water,  insomuch  that  one  or 
two  rises  he  got  he  missed  through  carelessness  in  striking. 
In  any  case  the  trout  were  not  rising  freely,  and  so  at  length 
he  said, — 

"  Archie,  would  you  mind  rowing  over  to  the  other  side  ? 
One  of  the  shepherds  sent  me  word  that  the  char  have  come 
there,  and  Miss  Winterbourne  has  never  seen  one.  I  only 
want  one  or  two  to  show  her  what  they  are  like ;  I  don't 
suppose  they  will  be  worth  cooking  just  now." 


YOLAXDR.  201 

"  But  you  have  no  bait." 

44 1  can  manage  with  the  fly,  I  think." 

And  so  they  rowed  away  across  the  pretty  loch  on  this 
pint- id  afternoon;  tin;  while  Melville  took  off  the  cast  he  had 
been  using,  substituting  three  sea-trout  flies  of  the  most 
brilliant  hues.  Then,  when  they  had  got  to  the  other  side, 
Melville  made  for  a  part  of  the  shore  where  the  banks 
seemed  to  go  very  sheer  down  ;  and  then  proceeded  to 
throw  the  flies  over  a  particular  part  of  the  water,  allowing 
them  slowly  to  sink.  It  was  an  odd  sort  of  fly-fishing,  if  it 
could  be  described  as  fly-fishing  at  all.  For  after  the  cast 
had  been  allowed  to  sink  some  couple  of  yards  or  so, 
the  flies  were  slowly  and  cautiously  trailed  along ;  then 
there  was  a  curious  sensation  as  if  an  eel  were  swallowing 
something  at  the  end  of  the  line — very  different  from  the 
quick  snap  of  a  trout — and  then,  as  he  carefully  wound  in 
the  reel  there  appeared  in  the  water  a  golden-yellow  thing, 
not  fighting  for  its  life  as  a  trout  would,  but  slowly,  oilily 
circling  this  way  and  that  until  a  scoop  of  the  small  landing- 
net  brought  the  lethargic,  feebly  flopping,  but  beautifully 
golden-and-red-spotted  fish  into  the  boat.  When  he  had 
got  the  two  that  he  wanted  he  had  done  with  that :  it  was 
not  sport.  And  then  he  sat  down  in  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
and  his  rod  was  idle. 

"  Archie,"  said  he,  "  there  is  something  better  in  you  than 
you  profess." 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  the  other, "  char-fishing  isn't  exciting, 
but  it  is  better  than  a  lecture." 

"This  is  serious,"  said  the  other,  quietly;  "you  your- 
self will  admit  that  when  I  tell  you." 

And  then,  very  cautiously  at  first,  and  rather  in  a  round- 
about way,  he  told  him  the  whole  sad  story,  begging  him 
not  to  interrupt  until  he  had  finished,  and  trying  to  invoke 
the  young  man's  pity  and  sympathy  for  what  those  people 
had  suffered,  and  trying  to  put  their  action  in  a  natural 
light,  and  trying  to  make  clear  their  motives.  Who  was  to 
blame — the  indiscreet  sister  who  had  invented  the  story,  or 
the  foolishly  affectionate  father  who  could  not  confess  the 
truth — he  would  not  say ;  he  would  rather  turn  to  consider 
what  they  had  attempted  and  succeeded  in  securing — what 
the  beautiful  child-nature  of  this  girl  should  grow  up  un- 
tainted with  sorrow  and  humiliation  and  pain. 

The  Master  of  Lynn  heard  him  patiently  to  the  end. 


202  YOLANDE. 

\vitliout  any  expressiou  of  surprise   or  any  other  emotion 
Then  he  said, — 

"  I  suppose,  Jack,  you  have  been  asked  to  tell  me  all 
this  ;  most  likely  you  are  expected  to  take  an  answer.  Well 
my  answer  is  clear.  Nothing  in  the  world  would  induce 
me  to  have  anything  to  do  with  such  a  system,  or  con 
Bpiracy,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called.  You  may  think  the 
incurring  of  all  this  suffering  is  fine  ;  I  think  it  is  folly. 
but  that  is  not  the  point.  I  am  not  going  to  judge  them. 
I  have  to  decide  for  myself,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  I  am  not 
such  a  fool  as  to  bring  any  skeleton  into  my  cupboard.  I 
don't  want  my  steps  dogged  ;  I  don't  want  to  have  to  look 
at  the  morning  paper  with  fear.  If  I  had  married  and 
found  this  out  afterward,  I  should  have  said  I  had  been 

frossly  deceived  ;  and  now,  with  my  eyes  open,  I  consider 
should  be  behaving  very  badly  toward  my  family  if  I  let 
them  in  for  the  possibility  of  any  scandal  or  disgrace." 

"  Why,  man,  how  could  there  be  any  such  thing?  "  Mel- 
ville exclaimed  ;  but  he  was  interrupted. 

"  I  let  you  have  your  say ;  let  me  have  mine.  There  is 
no  use  beating  about  the  bush.  I  can  have  nothing  to  do 
with  any  such  thing;  I  am  not  going  to  run  the  risk  of  any 
public  scandal  while  it  can  be  avoided." 

u  What  would  you  do,  then,  if  you  were  in  Winter- 
bourne's  position  ?  " 

"  What  would  I  do  ?  What  I  would  not  do  would  be  to 
incur  a  life-long  martyrdom,  all  for  a  piece  of  sentimental 
folly." 

"  But  what  would  you  do  ?  I  want  to  know  what  you 
would  do." 

"  I  would  lock  the  woman  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  Cer- 
tainly I  would.  Why  should  such  a  system  of  terrorism  be 
permitted?  It  is  perfectly  absurd." 

"  You  cannot  lock  her  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum  unless 
she  is  a  lunatic,  and  the  poor  creature  does  not  seem  to  be 
that — not  yet,  at  least." 

44  I  would  lock  her  up  in  a  police  cell,  then." 

**  And  would  that  prevent  exposure?" 

"  At  all  events,  it  would  prevent  her  going  down  and 
lying  in  wait  for  him  in  \V estimator  Palace  Yard.  Bui  that 
is  not  the  point.  It  is  not  what  I  would  do  in  his  place  , 
it  is  what  I  am  going  to  do  in  my  own.  And  that  is  clear 
enough.  I  have;  had  enough  bother  about  this  business  i 
1  urn  not  going  to  have  any  more.  I  am  not  going  to  have 


YOLANDE.  203 

any  secrets  and  mysteries.  I  am  not  going  to  submit  to 
any  terrorism.  Before  I  marry  Yolande  Winterbounie  all 
that  affair  of  that  lunatic  creature  must  be  arranged,  and 
arranged  so  that  every  one  may  know  of  it  without  fear 
and  trembling  and  dissimulation." 

"  The  message  is  difinite,"  said  Melville,  absently,  as  his 
companion  took  up  the  oars  and  began  to  row  across  to  the 
other  side  of  the  loch. 

It  was  characteristic  of  this  man  that  he  should  now 
begin  and  try  to  look  at  this  declaration  from  young  Les- 
lie's point  of  view,  and  endeavor  to  convince  himself  of  its 
reasonableness  ;  for  he  had  a  general  wish  to  approve  of 
people  and  their  ways  and  opinions,  having  in  the  long-run 
found  that  that  was  the  most  comfortable  way  of  getting 
along  in  the  world.  And  this  that  the  Master  had  just  said 
was,  regarded  from  his  own  position,  distinctly  reasonable. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  had 
his  life  preverted  and  tortured  mainly  through  his  trying  to 
hide  this  secret  from  his  daughter;  and  it  was  but  natural 
that  a  young  man  should  be  unwilling  to  have  his  own  life 
clouded  over  in  like  manner.  Even  John  Shorthands  had 
not  sought  to  defend  his  friend  when  he  told  the  story  to 
Melville.  As  for  himself — that  is,  Melville — well,  he  could 
not  honestly  approve  of  what  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  done 
— except  when  he  heard  Yolande  laugh. 

They  rowed  over  to  the  other  side  in  silence,  and  there 
got  out. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  use  any  harsh  terms,  Jack,"  the 
young  man  said.  "  But  the  thing  must  be  made  clear." 

"  I  have  been  wondering,"  said  the  other,  "  whether  it 
•would  not  have  been  better  if  I  had  held  my  tongue.  I 
don't  see  how  either  you  or  your  wife  could  ever  have  heard 
of  it." 

"  I  think  it  would  have  been  most  dishonorable  of  you 
to  have  known  that  and  to  have  kept  it  back  from  me  " 

"Oh,  you  do?" 

"  Most  distinctly  I  do." 

"  There  is  some  consolation  in  that.  I  thought  I  was 
perhaps  acting  the  part  of  an  idle  busybody,  who  generally 
only  succeeds  in  making  mischief.  And  I  have  been  won- 
dering what  is  the  state  of  the  law.  I  really  don't  know. 
I  don't  know  whether  a  magistrate  would  consider  the  con- 
sumption of  those  infernal  drugs  to  be  drunkenness  ;  and  I 


204  YOLANDE. 

don't  even  know  whether  you  can  compulsorily  keep  in 
confinement  one  who  is  a  confirmed  drunkard." 

"  You  may  very  well  imagine  that  I  don't  want  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  police  courts  and  police  magistrates, 
or  with  lunatic  asylums  either  when  I  get  married,"  said 
young  Leslie,  when  they  had  pulled  the  boat  up  on  the 
bank.  "But  this  I  am  sure  of,  that  you  can  always  get 
sufficient  protection  from  the  law  from  annoyances  of  that 
sort,  if  you  choose  to  appeal  to  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
you  don't,  if  you  try  to  shelter  people  from  having  their 
deserts,  if  you  go  in  for  private  and  perfectly  hopeless 
remedies,  then  you  have  to  stand  the  consequences.  I  de- 
clare to  you  that  nothing  would  induce  me  to  endure  for 
even  a  week  the  anxiety  that  seems  to  have  haunted  Win- 
terbourne  for  years  and  years." 

l'  But  then  he  is  so  desperately  fond  of  Yolande,  you 
see,"  Jack  Melville  said,  with  a  glance. 

Leslie  flushed  slightly. 

"  I  think  you  are  going  too  far." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not.  I  only  stated  a  fact.  Come,  now, 
Archie,"  he  said,  in  his  usual  friendly  way,  "  call  your 
common-sense  to  you,  that  you  are  so  proud  of.  You  know 
I  feel  myself  rather  responsible.  I  don't  want  to  think  I 
have  made  any  mischief — " 

"  You  have  made  no  mischief.  I  say  you  would  have 
acted  most  dishonorably  if  you  had  kept  this  back." 

"  Well,  now,  take  a  rational  view  of  the  situation.  No 
doubt  you  are  vexed  and  annoyed  by  the  opposition  at  home. 
That  is  natural.  No  one  likes  his  relatives  to  object  when 
he  knows  that  he  has  the  right  and  the  power  to  choose  for 
himself.  But  don't  transfer  your  annoyance  over  that 
matter  to  this,  which  is  quite  different.  Consider  yourself 
married,  and  living  at  Allt-nam-Ba  or  at  Lynn;  how  can 
the  existence  of  this  poor  creature  effect  you  in  any  way? 
And,  moreover,  the  poor  woman  can  not  live  long — " 

*'  She  might  live  long  enough  to  break  some  more 
windows,  and  get  everybody's  name  into  the  paper,"  said 
he.  "  You  don't  suppose  we  should  always  be  living  in  the 
Highlands?" 

*'  I  want  you  to  come  along  with  me  now  to  the  lodge  ; 
and  you  can  say  that,  after  all,  you  found  you  could  come 
to  dinner — there  never  were  people  so  charmingly  free  from 
ceremony  of  anj  kind  ;  and  after  dinner  you  will  tell  Mr. 
Win  turbo  urnu  that  certainly  you  yourself  might  not  hav« 


YOLANDE.  205 

been  prepared  to  do  what  he  has  done  during  these  years 
for  Yolande's  sake,  and  perhaps  that  you  could  not  approve 
of  it ;  but  that  for  the  short  time  likely  to  elapse  you  would 
be  content  also  to  keep  silence ;  and  you  might  even  un- 
dertake to  live  in  the  Highlands  until  death  should  remove 
Ihnt  poor  creature  and  all  possible  source  of  annoyance. 
That  would  be  a  friendly,  natural,  humane  sort  of  thing  to 
do,  and  ho  would  be  grateful  to  yon.  You  owe  him  a 
little.  He  is  giving  you  his  only  daughter  ;  and  you  need 
not  be  afraid — he  will  make  it  easy  for  you  to  buy  back 
Corrievreak  and  do  all  the  other  things  you  were  speaking 
of.  I  think  you  might  do  that." 

"  Midsummer  madness !  "  the  other  exclaimed,  with 
some  show  of  temper.  "  I  can't  imagine  how  you  could  ex- 
pect such  a  thing.  Our  family  is  old  enough  to  be  haunted 
by  a  ghost,  and  we  haven't  started  one  yet;  but  when  we 
do  start  one,  it  won't  be  a  police-court  sort  of  ghost,  I  can 
assure  you.  It  i«  hard  luck  when  one  of  one's  own  relatives 
goes  to  the  bad — I've  seen  that  often  enough  in  families ; 
but  voluntarily  to  take  over  some  one's  relative  who  has 
gone  to  the  bad,  without  even  the  common  protection  of 
the  policeman  and  the  magistrate — no,  thanks  !  " 

"  Then  that  is  your  message,  I  suppose." 

"  Most  distinctly.  I  am  not  going  into  any  conspiracy 
of  secrecy  and  terrorism — certainjy  not.  I  told  you  that  I 
liked  a  quiet  life.  I  am  not  going  to  bother  about  other 
people's  family  affairs — assuredly  I  am  not  going  to  submit 
to  any  persecution  or  any  possibility  of  persecution,  how- 
ever remote,  about  them." 

"  Very  well." 

"Don't  put  it  harshly.  I  wish  to  be  reasonable.  I  say 
they  have  been  unreasonable  and  foolish,  and  I  don't  want 
to  involve  myself  in  the  consequences.  When  I  marry,  I 
surely  must  have,  as  every  human  being  in  the  country  has, 
the  right  to  appeal  to  the  law.  I  cannot  have  my  mouth 
gagged  by  their  absurd  secrets." 

"  Very  well." 

'*  And  I  fancy,"  the  Master  of  Lynn  added,  as  his  eye 
caught  a  figure  that  had  just  come  in  sight,  far  away  up 
the  strath,  "that  that  is  Yolande  Winterbourne  herself. 
You  need  not  say  that  I  had  seen  her  before  I  left."  And 
BO  he  turned  and  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  Lynn 
Towers. 

And  was  this  indeed  Yolande?     Well,  he  would   meet 


206  YOLANDE 

her  with  an  unclouded  face,  for  she  was  quick  to  observe  t 
and  all  his  talk  would  be  about  the  golden  char,  and  the 
beautiful  afternoon,  and  the  rubber  of  whist  they  sometimes 
had  now  after  dinner.  And  yet  lie  was  thinking. 

"  I  wonder  if  my  way  would  do,"  he  was  saying  to  him- 
self as  he  still  regarded  that  advancing  figure.  "  Perhaps  it 
is  Quixotic,  as  Archie  would  say.  Statistics  are  against 
me,  and  statistics  are  horribly  sure  things,  but  sometimes 
they  don't  apply  to  individual  cases.  Perhaps  I  have  no 
business  to  interfere.  No  matter;  this  evening  at  least  she 
shall  go  home  to  dinner  with  a  light  heart.  She  does  not 
know  that  I  am  going  to  give  her  my  Linncea  borealis." 

The  tall  figure  now  advancing  to  him  was  undoubtedly 
that  of  Yolande,  and  he  guessed  that  she  was  smiling.  She 
had  brought  out  for  a  run  the  dogs  that  had  been  left  in  the 
kennel;  they  were  chasing  all  about  the  hillside  and  the 
road  in  front  of  her.  The  light  of  the  sunset  was  on  her 
face. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  when  they 
met. 

"  But  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  call  me  Yolande,"  said 
she,  quite  frankly  and  simply,  as  she  turned  to  walk  back 
with  him  to  Allt-nam-Ba ;  "  for  I  have  not  many  friends, 
and  I  like  them  all  to  call  me  Yolande." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  WALK  HOME. 

"  BUT  was  not  that  Mr.  Leslie  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh  yes,  it  was,1'  he  answered,  with  an  assumed  air  of 
indifference.  "Yes.  It  is  a  pity  he  cannot  dine  with  you 
this  evening." 

"  But  why  did  he  not  come  along  now,  for  a  minute 
even,  when  he  was  so  far?" 

She  certainly  was  surprised,  and  there  was  nothing  fox 
him  but  to  adopt  the  somewhat  lame  excuses  that  the  Master 
in  the  first  instance  had  offered  him. 

"I  think  he  is  expecting  a  lawyer  from  Inverness,"  said 
he,  rather  quickly  slurring  over  the  various  statements, 


YOLAXDE.  207 

"and  if  ho  came  by  the  afternoon  boat  lie  would  be  due  just 
about  now.  They  have  a  good  deal  of  business  on  hand 
just  now  at  Lynn." 

44  Yes,  apparently  that  is  true,"  she  said,  with  rather  a 
singular  gesture — very  slight,  but  significant.  "  We  have 
not  seen  anything  of  them." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  continued,  in  the  most  careless  and 
cheerful  way,  "no  doubt  they  know  your  father  is  occupied 
with  the  shooting,  and  you  with  your  amateur  housekeeping 
— which  I  am  told  is  perfect.  Mr.  Shortlands  says  the  lodge 
is  beautifully  managed." 

"Ah,  does  he?  ''  said  she,  with  a  quick  flush  of  genuine 
pleasure.  "I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  Ah,  it  is  very  simple 
now — oh  yes,  for  they,  are  all  so  diligent  and  punctual.  And 
now  I  have  more  and  more  time  for  my  botany,  and  I  am 
beginning  to  understand  a  little  more  of  the  arrangement, 
and  it  is  interesting." 

"  I  consider  you  have  done  very  well,"  said  he — "  so  well 
that  you  deserve  a  reward." 

"  Ah,  a  prize  ?  "  said  she,  with  a  laugh.  "  Do  you  give 
prizes  at  your  school  ?  Well  now — let  me  see — what  shall  I 
choose  ?  A  box  of  chocolates." 

"  Did  they  allow  you  to  choose  your  own  prizes  at 
Chateau  Cold  Floors  ?  We  don't  do  that  here.  No  ;  the 
reward  I  have  in  store  for  you  is  the  only  specimen  I  have 
got  of  the  JLinncea  borealis — the  only  plant  that  bears  the 
name  of  the  great  master  himself,  and  such  a  beautiful  plant 
too  !  I  don't  think  you  are  likely  to  find  it  about  here.  [ 
got  mine  at  Clova ;  but  you  can  get  everything  at  Clova." 

"  It  is  so  kind  of  you  !  "  she  said ;  "  but  what  am  i  to  do 
with  it  ?  " 

"  Start  a  herbarium.  You  ought  to  have  plenty  of  time  ; 
if  not,  get  up  an  hour  earlier.  You  have  a  fine  chance  here 
of  getting  the  Alpine  species.  I  have  got  some  fresh  boards 
and  drying-paper  down  from  Inverness  ;  and  I  meant  to  lend 
you  my  hand-press ;  but  then  I  thought  I  might  want  it 
myself  for  some  other  purpose ;  and  as  Mrs.  Bell  was  glad  to 
have  the  chance  of  presenting  you  with  one,  I  said  she  might ; 
it  will  down  from  Inverness  to-morrow." 

"  But  I  cannot  accept  so  much  kindness — "  she  was 
about  to  protest,  when  he  interrupted  her. 

"  You  must,"  he  said  simply.  "  When  people  are  in- 
clined to  be  civil  and  kind  to  you,  you  have  no  right  to 
snub  them." 


208  YOLANDE. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  short  and  faced  him.  There  was 
a  kind  of  mischief  in  her  eyes. 

"  Will  you  have  the  same  answer,"  she  asked,  slowly, 
and  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  him,  "  when  Mrs.  Bell  presents 
to  you  Monaglen  ?  " 

Despite  himself  a  flush  came  over  the  pale,  handsome 
features. 

"  That  is  absurd,"  said  he  quickly.  "  That  is  impossible. 
I  know  the  Master  jokes  about  it.  If  Mrs.  Bell  has  any 
wild  dreams  of  the  kind — " 

"If  she  has,"  Yolande  said,  gravely,  "if  she  wishes  to 
be  civil  and  kind,  you  have  no  right  to  snub  her." 

"  You  have  caught  me,  I  confess  it,"  he  said,  with  a 
good-natured  laugh,  as  they  resumed  their  walk  along  the 
wide  strath.  "  But  let  us  get  back  to  the  sphere  of  prac- 
tical politics." 

He  then  proceeded  to  give  her  instructions  about  the 
formation  of  a  herbarium ;  and  in  this  desultory  conversa- 
tion she  managed  very  plainly  to  intimate  to  him  that  she 
would  not  have  permitted  him  to  take  so  much  trouble  had 
this  new  pursuit  of  hers  been  a  mere  holiday  amusement. 
No;  she  hoped  to  make  something  more  serious  of  it ;  and 
would  it  not  be  an  admirable  occupation  for  her  when  she 
finally  came  to  live  in  these  wilds,  where  occupations  were 
not  abundant?  And  he  (with  his  mind  distraught  by  all 
sorts  of  anxieties)  had  to  listen  to  her  placidly  talking 
about  her  future  life  there,  as  if  that  were  to  be  all  very 
plain  sailing  indeed.  She  knew  of  no  trouble;  and  she 
was  not  the  one  to  anticipate  trouble.  Her  chief  regret  at 
present  was  that  her  botanizing  (at  least  so  far  as  the  col- 
lection of  plants  was  concerned)  would  cease  in  the  winter  ! ' 

"  But  you  cannot  live  up  here  in  the  winter  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  would  be  snowed  up." 

"Could  anything  be  more  delightful  than  that?"  she 
said.  "  Oh,  I  see  it  all  before  me — like  a  Christmas  picture. 
Big  red  fires  in  the  rooms;  outside,  the  sunlight  on  the 
snow,  the  air  cold  and  clear,  and  papa  going  away  over  the 
hard,  sparkling  hills  to  shoot  the  ptarmigan  and  the  white 
hares.  Don't  you  know,  then,  that  papa  will  take  Ailt- 
nam-Ba  for  all  the  year  round  when  I  come  to  live  here  ? 
And  if  Duncan,  the*  keeper,  can  live  very  well  iu  the  bothy, 


VOLANDE.  200 

why  not  we  in  the  lodge !  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  will  be 
ravishing." 

"No,  no,  no;  you  could  not  attempt  such  a  thing,"  he 
said.  "  Why  the  strath  might  be  quite  impassable  willi 
the  snow.  You  might  be  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world 
for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks.  You  would  starve." 

"Perhaps,  then,  you  never  heard  of  tinned  meats?  "  sho 
said,  with  an  air  of  superiority. 

*k  No,  no  ;  the  people  about  here  don't  do  like  that.  Of 
course  in  the  winter  you  would  naturally  go  in  to  Inverness, 
or  go  south  to  Edinburgh,  or  perhaps  have  a  house  in  Lon- 
don." 

"  Oh  no,  that  is  what  my  papa  would  never,  never  per- 
mit— anything  but  London." 

"  Well,  then,  Inverness  is  a  pleasant  and  cheerful  town. 
And  I  must  say  this  for  the  Master,  that  he  is  not  at  all 
likely  to  prove  an  absentee  landlord,  when  his  turn  comes. 
He  is  quite  as  diligent  as  his  father  in  looking  after  the 
estate;  there  won't  be  any  reversal  of  policy  when  he  suc- 
ceeds, as  sometimes  happens." 

"  Inverness?  "  said  she,  wistfully.  "  Yes  ;  perhaps  In- 
verness— perhaps  here — that  is  what  my  papa  would  prefer  ; 
but  London — ah,  no !  And  sometimes  I  think  he  is  so 
sadly  mistaken  about  me — it  is  his  great  affection,  I  know 
— but  he  thinks  if  I  were  in  London  I  would  hear  too  much 
of  the  attacks  they  make  on  him,  and  I  might  read  the 
stupidities  they  put  into  the  newspapers  about  him.  He  is 
so  afraid  of  my  being  annoyed — oh,  I  know,  for  himself  he 
does  not  care — it  is  all  me,  me — and  the  trouble  he  will 
take  to  watch  against  small  annoyances  that  might  happen 
to  me,  it  is  terrible  and  pitiable,  only  it  is  so  kind.  Why 
should  I  not  go  to  the  House  of  Commons  ?  Do  they  think 
I  care  about  their  stupidities?  I  know  they  are  angry  be- 
cause they  have  one  man  among  them  who  will  not  be  the 
slave  of  any  party — who  will  not  be  a — a  cipher,  is  it  ? — in 
a  crowd — an  atom  in  a  majority — no,  but  who  wishes  to 
speak  what  he  thinks  is  true." 

"  Oh,  but,  Yolande,"  said  he  (venturing  thus  to  address 
her  for  the  first  time),  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me ;  do  you  ever 
feel  annoyed  and  vexed  when  you  see  any  attack  on  your 
father  ? " 

She  hesitated  ;  she  did  not  like  to  confess. 

"  It  is  a  natural  thing  to  be  annoyed  when  you  ses 
stupidities  of  malice  and  spitefulness,"  she  said,  at  length  — 


210  YOLANDE. 

with  the  fair  freckled  face  a  shade  wanner  in  color  than 
usual. 

"  For  I  can  give  you  a  panacea  for  all  such  wounds,  or 
rather  an  absolute  shield  against  them." 

"  Can  you — can  you  ?  "  she  said,  eagerly. 

"Oh,  yes,''  he  said,  in  that  carelessly  indifferent  way  of 
his.  "  When  you  see  anybody  pitching  into  your,  father, 
in  the  House  or  in  a  newspaper,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  re- 
call a  certain  sonnet  of  Milton's.  You  should  bear  it  about 
with  you  in  your  mind ;  there  is  a  fine  wholesome  tone  of 
contempt  in  it;  and  neither  persons  in  public  life  nor  tht'ir 
relatives  should  have  too  great  a  respect  for  other  people's 
opinions.  It  is  not  wholesome.  It  begets  sensitiveness. 
You  should  always  consider  that  your  opponents  are — 
are — " 

"Ames  de  bone!"  said  Yolande,  fiercely.  "That  is 
what  I  think  when  I  see  what  they  say  of  my  papa." 

"  But  I  don't  think  you  would  feel  so  much  indignation 
as  that  if  you  would  carry  about  this  sonnet  with  you  in 
your  memory  : — 

'"  I  did  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 
By  the  known  rules  of  ancient  liberty, 
When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 
Of  owls,  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes,  and  dogs  ; 
As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transformed  to  frogs 
Railed  at  Latona's  twin-born  progeny, 
Which  after  held  the  Sun  and  Moon  in  fee. 
But  this  is  got  by  casting  pearls  to  hogs, 
That  bawl  for  freedom  in  their  senseless  mood, 
And  still  revolt  when  Truth  would  set  them  free. 
License  they  mean  when  they  cry  Liberty  ; 
For  who  loves  that  must  first  be  wise  and  good  ; 
But  from  that  mark  how  far  they  rove  we  see, 
For  all  this  waste  of  wealth  and  loss  of  blood. " 

There  is  a  good,  honest,  satisfactory,  wholesome  con- 
tempt in  it." 

"Yes,  yes;  will  you  write  it  down  for  me?"  said  she, 
quickly  and  gratefully.  "  Will  you  write  it  down  for  me 
when  we  get  to  the  lodge  ?  " 

"  If  you  like." 

When  they  drew  near  to  the  lodge,  however,  they  found 
that  something  very  unusual  was  going  forward.  The 
whole  of  the  women-servants,  to  beg'm  with,  were  outside, 
and  gazing  intently  in  the  direction  of  a  hillside  just  above 
the  confluence  of  the  Dun  Water  and  the  Crooked  Water, 


YOLAXDE.  211 

while  the  pretty  Highland  cook  was  asserting  something  or 
other  in  strenuous  terms.  The  moment  they  saw  Yolande 
those  young  people  fled  into  the  house,  like  so  many  scurry- 
ing rabbits ;  but  Sandy,  the  groom,  being  over  near  the 
kennel,  did  not  hear,  and  remained  perched  up  on  the  fence, 
using  an  opera-glass  which  he  had  filched  from  the  dining 
room  mantelpiece.  Yolande  went  over  to  him  (as  she  had 
to  kennel  up  the  dogs  in  any  case),  and  said  to  him, — 
"  What  is  the  matter,  Sandy?  " 

He  very  nearly  dropped  with  fright,  but  instantly  recov- 
ered himself,  and  said,  with  great  excitement: — 

"  I  think  they  are  bringing  home  a  stag,  madam  ;  I  am 
sure  that  is  it.  I  was  seeing  the  powny  taken  down  to 
cross  the  burn  ;  and  it  was  not  the  panniers  that  was  on 
him  ;  and  there  is  the  chentlernen  standing  by  the  bridge, 
looking." 

There  certainly  was  a  small  group  of  figures  standing 
on  the  further  side  of  that  distant  bridge — a  slim  little  struct- 
ure slung  on  wires,  and  so  given  to  oscillation  that  only  one 
person  could  cross  at  a  time.  This  performance,  indeed, 
was  now  carefully  going  on  ;  but  what  had  become  of  the 
pony?  Presently  they  saw  something  appear  on  the  top  of 
the  bank  on  this  side  of  the  stream. 

"  It  is  a  stag  undoubtedly,  Yolande,"  Jack  Melville  said, 
(he  had  got  hold  of  the  opera-glass)  "  and  I  should  say  a 
good  one.  Now  how  could  that  have  come  about?  Never 
mind,  I  dare  say  your  father  will  be  delighted  enough,  and 
I  should  say  Duncan  will  tune  up  his  pipes  this  evening." 

Yolande  looked  through  the  glass,  and  was  very  much 
excited  to  see  that  small  pony  coming  home  with  its  heavy 
burden  ;  but  the  gentlemen  were  now  invisible,  having 
passed  behind  a  hillock.  And  so  she  sped  into  the  house, 
fearful  that  the  curiosity  of  the  women-servants  might 
have  let  affairs  get  behindhand,  and  determined  that  every- 
thing should  be  in  readiness  for  the  home-corning  sports- 
men. 

Melville  was  left  outside ;  and  as  he  regarded  now  the 
gillie  leading  the  pony,  and  now  the  party  of  people  who 
were  visible  coming  over  the  hillock,  it  was  not  altogether 
of  the  dead  stag  that  he  was  thinking.  In  this  matter  of  the 
Master  of  Lynn  he  had  only  performed  his  thankless  duty 
as  messenger,  as  it  were ;  still,  it  was  not  pleasant  to  have 
to  bring  back  bad  news.  Sometimes  he  wished  he  had  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  whole  complication ;  then. 


212  YOLANDE. 

again,  he  reminded  himself  that  that  secret  had  been  con- 
fided to  him  by  John  Shortlands  unsolicited  ;  and  that  he, 
Melville,  had  subsequently  done  what  he  honestly  thought 
best.  And  then  he  turned  to  think  about  Yolande.  Would 
he  grudge  anything  he  could  do  for  that  beautiful  child- 
nature — to  keep  it  clear  and  bright  and  peaceful?  No,  he 
could  not.  And  then  he  thought,  with  something  of  a  sigh, 
that  those  who  were  the  lucky  ones  in  this  world  did  not 
seem  to  place  much  value  on  the  prizes  that  lay  within  their 
hands'  reach. 

The  corpulent  John  Shortlands,  a%  he  now  came  proudly 
along,  puffed  and  blowing  and  breathless,  clearly  showed  by 
his  radiant  face  who  had  shot  the  stag;  and  at  once  he 
plunged  into  an  account  of  the  affair  for  the  benefit  of  Jack 
Melville.  He  roundly  averred  that  no  such  "  fluke  "  was 
known  in  English  history.  They  were  not  out  after  any 
stag.  No  stag  had  any  right  to  be  there.  They  had  passed 
up  that  way  in  the  morning  with  the  dogs.  Nor  could  this 
have  been  the  wounded  stag  that  the  shepherds  had  seen 
drinking  out  of  the  Allt-corrie-an-eich  some  four  days  ago. 
No;  this  must  have  been  some  wandering  stag  that  had  got 
startled  out  of  some  adjacent  forest,  and  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  glen  just  as  the  shooting  party  were  coming  back 
from  the  far  tops.  Duncan  had  proposed  to  have  a  try  for 
a  few  black-game  when  they  came  down  to  these  woods  ; 
and  so,  by  great  good  luck,  John  Shortlands  had  put  a  No. 
4  cartridge  in  his  left  barrel,  just  in  case  an  old  blackcock 
should  get  up  wild.  Then  he  was  standing  at  his  post,  when 
suddenly  he  heard  a  pattering;  a  brown  animal  appeared 
with  head  high  and  horns  thrown  back  ;  the  next  instant  it 
passed  him,  not  more  than  fifteen  yards  off,  and  he  blazed 
at  it — in  his  nervousness  with  the  right  barrel ;  then  he  saw 
it  stumble,  only  for  a  second  ;  then  on  it  went  again,  he  after 
it,  down  to  the  burn,  which  fortunately  was  rushing,  fed 
with  the  last  night's  rain ;  in  the  bed  of  the  stream  it  stum- 
bled again  and  fell,  and  as  it  struggled  out  and  up  the  op- 
posite bank,  there  being  now  nothing  but  the  breadth  of  the 
burn  between  him  and  it,  he  took  more  deliberate  aim,  fired, 
and  the  stag  fell  back  stone-dead,  its  head  arid  horns,  in- 
deed, remaining  partly  in  the  water. 

Then  Mr.  Winterbourne,  when  lie  came  along,  seemed 
quite  as  honestly  pleased  at  this  unexpected  achievement  as 
if  the  stag  had  fallen  to  his  own  gun  ;  while  as  for  Duncan, 
the  grim  satisfaction  on  his  face  was  sufficient  testimony. 


YOLANDE.  213 

"This  is  something  like  a  good  day's  work,"  said  lie. 
"  And  I  was  bringing  down  the  stag  for  Miss  Winterbourne 
to  see  it  before  the  dark,  and  now  Peter  will  take  back  the 
powny  for  the  panniers." 

But  Jack  Melville  took  occasion  to  say  to  him  aside, — 

"  Duncan,  Miss  Winterbourne  will  look  at  the  head  and 
horns  when  you  have  had  time  to  take  a  sponge  or  a  wet 
cloth  to  them,  don't  you  understand  ? — later  on  in  the  even- 
ing, perhaps." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  And  I  suppose  the  gentleman  will  be 
sending  in  the  head  to  Mr.  Macleay's  to-morrow?  It  is  not 
a  royal,  but  it  is  a  very  good  head  whatever." 

"  How  many  points — ten  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     It  is  a  very  good  head  whatever." 

Yolande  had  so  effectively  hurried  up  everything  inside 
the  lodge  that  when  the  gentlemen  appeared  for  dinner  it 
was  they  who  were  late,  and  not  the  dinner.  And  of  course 
she  was  greatly  delighted  also,  and  all  the  story  of  the  cap- 
ture of  the  stag  had  to  be  told  over  again,  to  the  minutest 
poirus.  And  again  there  was  a  fierce  discussion  as  to  who 
should  have  the  head  and  horns,  John  Shortlands  being 
finally  compelled  to  receive  the  trophy  which  naturally  be- 
longed to  him.  Then  a  wild  skirl  outside  in  the  dark. 

"•  AVhat  is  that,  now  ?  "  said  John  Shortlands. 

"  That,"  said  Yolande,  complacently — for  she  had  got 
to  know  something  of  these  matters — "  is  the  pibroch  of 
Donald  Dim." 

"  That  is  the  pibroch  of  Donald  Black,  I  suppose,"  said 
John  Shortlands,  peevishly.  "What  the  mischief  have  I  to 
do  with  Donald  Black  ?  I  want  the  Pibroch  of  John  Short- 
lands.  What  is  the  use  of  killing  a  stag  if  you  have  to  have 
somebody  else's  pibroch  played?  If  ever  I  rent  a  deer  for- 
est in  the  Highlands,  I  will  have  my  own  pibroch  made  for 
me,  if  I  pay  twenty  pounds  for  it." 

Indeed,  as  it  turned  out,  there  was  so  much  joy  diffused 
throughout  this  household  by  the  slaying  of  the  stag  that 
Jack  Melville,  communing  with  himself,  decided  that  his  ill 
news  might  keep.  He  would  take  some  other  opportunity 
of  telling  Shortlands  the  result  of  his  mission.  Why  destroy 
his  very  obvious  satisfaction?  It  was  a  new  experience  for 
him  ;  he  had  never  shot  a  stag  before.  The  cup  of  his  hap- 
piness was  full  to  the  brim,  and  nobody  grudged  it  him,  for 
lie  was  a  sound-hearted  sort  of  man. 

One  rather  awkward  incident  arose,  however,  out  of  this 


Z\4  y  OLANDE. 

stair  episode.     In  the  midst  of  their  dinner  talk  Yolande 
suddenly  said, — 

"Papa,  ought  I  to  stnd  a  haunch  of  venison  to  Lynn 
Towers?  It  seems  so  strange  to  have  neighbors,  and  not 
any  compliment  one  way  or  the  other.  Should  I  send  a 
haunch  of  venison  to  Lord  Lynn  ?  " 

Her  father  seemed  somewhat  disturbed. 

"  No,  no,  Yolande ;  it  would  seem  absurd  to  send  a 
haunch  of  venison  to  a  man  who  has  a  deer  forest  of  his 
own." 

"  But  it  is  let." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  no  doubt  the  tenant  will  send  in  a 
haunch  to  the  Towers  if  there  is  any  occasion." 

"  But  I  know  he  does  not,  for  Archie  said  so.  Mr.  Mel- 
ville," she  said,  shifting  the  ground  of  her  appeal,  "  would 
it  not  be  a  nice  compliment  to  pay  to  a  neighbor.  Is  it  not 
customary?" 

His  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  the  table  ;  he  did  not  raise 
them. 

"  I — I  don't  think  I  would,"  said  he,  with  some  little 
embarrassment.  "You  don't  know  what  fancies  old  people 
might  take.  And  you  will  want  the  venison  for  yourselves. 
Besides,  Mr.  Shortlands  shot  the  stag;  you  should  let  him 
have  a  haunch  to  send  to  his  friends  in  the  south." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes,  certainly,"  she  cried,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  Why  did  I  not  think  of  it?  That  will  be  much 
better." 

At  another  time  John  Shortlands  might  have  protested, 
but  something  in  Melville's  manner  struck  him,  and  he  did 
not  contend  that  the  haunch  of  venison  should  be  sent  to 
Lynn  Towers. 

After  dinner  they  went  out  into  the  dark,  and,  guided 
by  the  sound  of  the  pipes,  made  their  way  to  the  spacious 
coach-house,  which  they  found  had  been  cleared  out,  and 
in  which  they  found  two  of  the  gillies  and  two  of  the  shep- 
herds— great,  huge,  red-bearded,  brawny  men — dancing  a 
four-some  reel,  while  Duncan  was  playing  as  if  he  meant  to 
send  the  roof  off.  The  head  and  horns  of  the  deer  were 
hung  up  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  loose  box.  The  place 
was  ruddily  lit  up  by  two  lamps,  as  well  as  a  few  candles; 
there  was  a  small  keg  of  whiskey  in  a  dim  corner.  And 
Yolande  thought  that  the  Highland  girls  might  just  as  well 
come  over  from  the  lodge  (the  English  Jane  was  of  no  use), 
and  very  soon  the  dancing  party  was  made  much  more 


YOLANDE.  215 

picturesque.  But  where  was  the  Master  of  Lynn,  with  the 
torchlight  dance  he  had  promised  them  on  the  occasion  of 
their  killing  their  first  st:ig  ? 

When  Jack  Melville  was  going  away  that  night  he  was 
surprised  to  find  the  dog-cart  outside,  Sandy  in  his  livery, 
the  lamps  lit,  and  warm  rugs  on  the  front  seat. 

"  This  is  not  for  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  said  Yolande. 

"  Oh,  but  I  must  ask  you  to  send  it  back.  It  is  nothing 
for  me  to  walk  to  Gress.  You  have  enough  work  for  your 
horses  just  now." 

"The  night  is  dark,"  she  said,  "and  I  wish  you  to 
drive  ;  you  will  have  the  light  of  the  lamps." 

"  Why  should  I  drive — to  Gress !  "  he  said. 

"  But  I  wish  it,"  she  answered. 

And  that  was  enough. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

DANGEB. 

IT  might  have  appeared  to  any  careful  observer,  who 
also  knew  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  what  was 
now  happening,  or  about  to  happen,  away  up  in  those 
remote  solitudes,  was  obvious  enough ;  but  certainly  no 
suspicion  of  any  such  possibilities  had  so  far  entered  the 
minds  of  the  parties  chiefly  interested.  Yolande  regarded 
her  future  as  already  quite  settled.  That  was  over  and 
done  with.  Her  French  training  had  taught  her  to  acqui- 
esce in  any  arrangement  that  seemed  most  suitable  to  those 
who  hitherto  had  guided  her  destiny,  and  as  she  had  never 
experienced  any  affection  stronger  than  her  love  for  her 
father,  so  she  did  not  perceive  the  absence  of  any  such  pas- 
sion. To  English  eyes  her  marriage  might  seem  a  mariage 
de  complaisance,  as  Colonel  Graham  had  styled  it ;  in  her 
eyes  it  seemed  everything  that  was  natural  and  proper  and 
fitting,  and  she  was  quite  content.  It  never  occurred  to  her 
to  analyze  the  singular  satisfaction  she  always  felt  in  the 
society  of  this  new  friend — the  sense  of  safety,  trust, 
guidance,  and  reliance  with  which  he  inspired  her.  He 


•JIG  YOLANDE. 

claimed  a  sort  of  schoolmasterish   authority  over  her,  and 
she  yielded  ;    sometimes,  it  is  true,  re-asserting  her  inde- 
pendence by  the  use  of  feminine  wiles  and  coquetries  which 
were  as  natural  as  the  scamperings  of  a  young  rabbit  or  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves  of  a  tree,  but  more  ordinarily  submit- 
ting to  his  dictation  and  government  with  a  placid    and 
amused  sense  of  security  ;  while  as  for  him,  had  he  dreamed 
that   he   was  stealing   away  the   affections  of   his  friend's 
chosen  bride  he  would    have   fled    from   the  spot  on   the 
instant,  with  shame  and  ignominy  haunting  him.     But  how 
could  such  an  idea  present  itself  to  him?     He  looked  on 
her  as  one  already  set  apart.      She  belonged  to  the  Master 
of  Lynn.     As  his  friend's  future  wife    he  hoped    she  also 
would  be  his  friend.      He  admired  her  bright  spirits,  her 
cheerfulness,  and  frankness ;  but  it  was  this  very  frankness 
(added  to   his  own   blunt  disregard    of  conventionalities) 
that  was  deceiving  them  both.     Five  minutes  after  she  had 
asked   him  to  call  her  Yolande  she  was  talking  to  him  of 
her  future  home  and  her  married  life,  and  she  was  as  ready 
to  take  his  advice  in  that  direction  as  in  the  direction  of 
drying  plants  and  setting  up  a  herbarium.      And  if  some- 
times she  reversed  their  relations,    and  took  to  lecturing 
him  on  his  unwise  ways  at  Gress — his  carelessness  about 
his  meals,  and  so  forth — why,  then  he  humored  her,  and 
considered   her   remonstrances  as    only   an    exhibition    of 
friendly  interest,  perhaps  with  a  trifle  of  gratitude  added, 
for  lie  knew  very  well  that  he  had  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  in  trying  to  be  of  service  to  her. 

Then,  at  this  particular  moment,  everything  seemed  to 
conspire  toward  that  end  which  neither  of  them  foresaw. 
Yolande  found  the  domestic  arrangements  at  Allt-narn-Ba 
flow  very  easily  and  smoothly,  so  that  practically  she  had 
the  bulk  of  the  day  at  her  own  disposal,  and  Gress  was  a 
convenient  halting-place  when  she  went  for  a  drive,  even 
when  she  had  no  particular  message  or  object  in  view. 
But  very  frequently  she  had  a  distinct  object  in  view,  which 
led  to  her  sending  on  the  dog-cart  to  Foyers  and  awaiting 
its  return.  On  the  very  morning,  for  example,  after  Jack 
Melville  had  dined  with  them,  she  got  the  following  letter, 
which  had  been  brought  out  from  Whitebridge  late  the 
night  before.  The  letter  was  from  Mrs.  Bell,  and  the  hand- 
writing was  singularly  clear  and  precise  for  a  woman  now 
over  sixty,  who  had  for  the  most  part  educated  herself. 


YOLANDE.  217 

"  GRESS,  Wednesday ; 

"MY  DEAR  YOUNG  LADY, — Excuse  my  forwardness  in 
sending  you  a  letter;  but  I  thought  you  would  like  to  hear 
the  good  news.  The  lawyers  write  to  me  from  Edinburgh 
that  young  Mr.  Fraser  is  now  come  of  age,  and  that  the 
trustees  are  now  willing  to  sell  the  Monaglen  estate,  if  they 
can  get  enough  for  it.  This  is  what  I  have  looked  forward 
to  for  many's  the  day;  but  we  must  not  be  too  eager  like  : 
the  lawyers  are  such  keen  bodies,  and  I  have  not  saved  up 
my  scraps  to  feed  their  pigs.  I  think  I  would  like  to  go  to 
Edinburgh  myself,  if  it  was  not  that  they  lasses  would  let 
every  thins:  go  to  rack  and  ruin,  and  would  have  no  sense 
to  study  Mr.  Melville's  ways;  the  like  of  them  for  glaiket 
hussies  is  not  in  the  land.  But  I  would  greatly  wish  to 
see  you,  dear  young  lady,  if  you  will  honor  me  so  far,  before 
I  go  to  Edinburgh,  for  I  can  not  speak  to  Mr.  Melville 
about  it,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  go  among  they  lawyers  with 
only  my  own  head  to  guide  me.  I  am,  your  humble  servant, 

u  CHRISTINA  BELL." 

Yolande  laughed  when  she  got  this  letter,  partly  with 
pure  joy  over  the  great  good  fortune  which  was  likely 
to  befal  her  friend,  and  partly  at  the  humor  of  the  notion 
that  she  should  be  consulted  about  the  conveyancing  of  an 
estate.  However,  she  lost  no  time  in  making  her  prepara- 
tions for  driving  down  to  Gress,  and  indeed  the  dog-cart, 
had  already  been  ordered  to  take  some  game  into  Foyers, 
and  also  the  stag's  head  destined  for  Mr.  Macleay.  Yolande 
saw  that  everything  was  right,  got  a  brace  of  grouse  and 
a  hare  for  Mrs.  Bell,  and  then  set  out  to  drive  away 
down  the  strath,  on  this  changing,  gloomy,  and  windy  day 
that  had  streaked  the  troubled  surface  of  the  loch  with 
long  white  lines  of  foarn. 

She  found  Mrs.  Bell  much  excited,  but  still  scarcely 
daring  to  talk  above  a  whisper,  while  from  time  to  time  she 
glanced  at  the  laboratory,  as  if  she  feared  Mr.  Melville  would 
come  out  to  surprise  them  in  the  discussion  of  this  dark 
secret. 

"He  is  not  in  the   schoolhouse,  then?"  Yolande  said. 

u  Not  the  now.  Ye  see,  the  young  lad,  Dalrymple,  that 
he  got  from  Glasgow  College  is  doing  very  well  now,  and 
Mr.  Melville  is  getting  to  be  more  and  more  his  own  maister. 
He  canna  aye  be  looking  after  they  bairns ;  and  if  we  could 
get  Monaglen  for  him, who  could  expect  him  to  bother  his  head 


218  YOLANDE. 

nboot  a  school  ?  He's  done  enough  for  the  folk  about  here  j 
he'll  have  to  do  something  for  himself  now — ah,  Miss  Win 
tei  bourne,  that  will  be  a  prood  day  for  me,  when  I  hand  him 
over  the  papers." 

She  spoke    as  if  it  were  a  conspiracy  between  these  two. 

'*  But  it  will  be  a  sair,  sair  job  to  get  him  to  take  the 
place,"  she  continued,  reflectively,  "  for  the  man  has 
little  common-sense ;  but  he  has  pride  enough  to  move 
mountains." 

"Not  common-sense? "  said  Yolande,  with  her  eyes 
showing  her  wonder.  "  What  has  he  then?  I  think  it  is' al- 
ways common-sense  with  him.  When  you  are  talking  with 
him,  and  not  very  sure  what  to  do,  whatever  he  says  is  al- 
ways clear,  straight,  and  right ;  you  have  no  difficulty  ;  he 
sees  just  the  right  way  before  you.  But  how  am  I  to  help 
you  Mrs.  Bell?" 

"  Well,  I  dinna  ken,  exactly,  but  the  idea  of  an  auld 
woman  like  me  going  away  to  Edinburgh  among  a'  they 
lawyers  is  just  dredfu'.  It's  like  Daniel  being  put  into  the 
den  of  lions." 

"  Well,  you  know,  Mrs.  Bell,"  Yolande  said,  cheerfully, 
"  no  harm  was  done  to  him.  The  lions  did  not  touch  a 
hair  of  his  head." 

"  Ay  I  ken  that,"  said  Mrs.  Bell  grimly  ;  "  but  they  dinna 
work  miracles  nowadays." 

"  Surely  you  must  have  your  own  lawyers?  "the  girl 
asked. 

"  I  have  that." 

*'  You  can  trust  them,  then ;  with  them  you  are  safe 
enough,  surely  ?" 

"  Well,  this  is  the  way  on't,"  said  Mrs.  Bell,  with  decis- 
ion. "  It  is  not  in  the  nature  o'  things  for  a  human  being  to 
trust  a  lawyer — it's  no  possible.  But  the  needcessity  o  '  the 
case  drives  ye  into  their  hands,  and  ye  can  only  trust  in  Prov- 
idence that  they  will  make  the  other  side  suffer,  and  no  you. 
They're  bound  to  make  their  money  out  o'  somebody.  I'm 
no  saying,  ye  ken,  but  that  the  lawyers  that  have  been 
doing  business  for  ye  for  a  nurnmer  o'  years  might 'no  be  a 
bit  fairer;  for  it's  their  interest  to  carry  ye  on,  and  be  freens 
wi'  ye,  but,  dear  me,  when  I  think  of  going  away  to  Edinburgh 
a'  by  mysel',  among  that  pack  o'  wolves,  it's  enough  to  keep 
one  frae  sleeping  at  nights." 

"  Bui  every  one  says  you  are  so  shrewd,  Mrs.  Bell!" 

"  Do  they  ?  "  she  responded,  with  a  pleased  laugh.     "Just 


YOLANDE.  219 

because  I  kenned  what  they  men  were  after?  It  needed  no 
much  judgment  to  make  that  out.  Maybe  if  I  had  been  a 
young  lass  they  might  ha*  persuaded  me ;  but  when  1  was  a 
young  lass  with  scarcely  a  bawbee  in  my  stocking,  there  was 
never  a  word  on't ;  and  when  they  did  begin  to  come  about 
when  I  was  an  auld  woman,  I  kenned  fine  it  was  my  bank-book 
they  were  after.  It  didna  take  much  judgment  to  make 
that  out — the  idiwuts !  Ay,  and  my  lord,  too — set  him 
up  wi'  his  eight  months  in  London  by  hiiuscl,'  and  me  find- 
ing the  money  to  put  saut  in  his  kail.  Well,  here  am  I 
bletherin'  about  a  lot  o'  havers  like  that,  as  if  I  was  a  young 
lass  out  at  the  herdin/  when  I  wanted  to  tell  ye,  rny  dear 
young  leddy,  just  how  everything  was.  Ye  see  what 
I  was  left  was,  first  of  a,'  the  whole  of  tl»e  place  in 
Leicestershire,  and  a  beautifu'  country  side  it  is  ;  and  a  braw 
big  house  too,  though  it  was  not  likely  I  was  going  to  live 
there,  in  a  state  not  becoming  to  one  like  me,  and  me 
wanting  to  be  among  my  own  people  besides.  Then  there 
was  some  money  in  consols,  which  is  as  safe  as  the  Bank,  as 
the  saying  is ;  and  some  shares  in  a  mine  in  Cornwall.  The 
shares  I  was  advised  to  sell,  and  I  did  that;  for  I  am  not 
one  that  cares  for  risk ;  but  when  I  began  to  get  possession 
of  my  yearly  money,  and  when  I  found  what  I  could  save 
was  mounting  up,  and  mounting  up,  in  jist  an  extraordinary 
way,  1  put  some  o'  that  into  French  stock,  as  I  thought  I 
might  take  a  bit  liberty  wi'  what  was  my  own  making  in  a 
measure.  And  now,  though  it's  no  for  me  to  boast,  it's  a 
braw  sum — a  braw  sum  ;  and  atweel  I'm  thinking  that  a  fine 
rich  English  estate,  even  by  itseP  should  be  able  to  buy  up  a 
wheen  bare  hillsides  in  Inverness-shire,  even  if  we  have  to 
take  the  sheep  ower  at  a  valuation — ay,  and  leave  a  pretty 
penny  besides.  I  declare  when  I  think  o'  what  might  ha' 
happened,  I  feel  I  should  go  down  on  my  knees  and  thank 
the  Almighty  for  putting  enough  sense  in  my  head  to  see 
what  they  men  were  after?  or  by  this  time  there  might  not 
be  stick  or  stone  to  show  for  it — a'  squandered  away  in  horse- 
racing  or  the  like — and  Mr.  Melville,  the  son  of  my  auld 
master,  the  best  master  that  ever  lived,  going  about  from 
one  great  man's  house  to  another,  teaching  the  young  gen- 
tlemen, and  him  as  fit  as  any  o'  them  to  have  house  and  ha' 
of  his  ain — " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  for  both  of  them  now  saw  through 
the  parlor  window  Jack  Melville  himself  come  out  of  his 
laborMtory,  carelessly  whistling.  Doubtless  he  did  not  know 


2'JO  YOLANDE. 

that  Yolande  was  in  the  house,  else  he  would  have  walked 
thither;  and  probably  he  had  only  come  out  to  get  a  breath 
of  fresh  air,  for  he  went  to  a  rocking-chair  close  by  the 
garden,  and  threw  himself  into  it,  lying  back  with  his 
hands  behind  his  head.  Indeed,  he  looked  the  very  incar- 
nation of  indolence,  this  big-boned,  massive-shouldered 
young  man,  who  lay  there  idly  scanning  the  skies. 

"  I  am  going  out  to  scold  him  for  laziness,"  said  Yolande. 

"  Please  no,  my  dear  young  leddy,"  Mrs.  Bell  said, 
laying  her  hand  gently  on  the  girl's  arm.  "  It  is  now  he  is 
working." 

i  "  Working  !  Does  it  look  like  it  ?  Besides,  I  am  not 
so  afraid  of  him  as  you  are,  Mrs.  Ball.  Oh  yes,  let  me  go." 

So  she  went  out  and  through  the  little  lobby  into  the 
garden,  coining  upon  him  indeed,  quite  unawares. 

"  Mrs.  Bell  says  I  must  not  speak  to  you,"  she  said. 
"  She  says  you  are  working,  and  must  not  be  disturbed.  Is 
it  so  ?  And  what  is  the  work  ?  Is  it  travelling  at  68,000 
miles  an  hour  ?  " 

"  Something  like  that,"  said  he  ;  and  he  forgot  to  rise, 
while  she  remained  standing.  Then  he  glanced  round  the 
threatening  sky  again.  "  You  were  brave  to  venture  out  on 
a  morning  like  this." 

"  Why  ?     What  is  there  ?', 

"  Looks  like  the  beginning  of  a  storm,"  said  he.  "  Here 
we  are  fairly  sheltered,  but  there  are  some  squalls  of  wind 
going  across,  I  hope  you  won't  all  be  blown  down  the  strath 
into  the  loch  to-night." 

"  Ah,  but  I  do  not  believe  any  longer  in  weather  proph- 
ecies," she  said,  tauntingly.  "  No,  I  do  not  think  any  one 
has  any  knowledge  of  it — at  Allt-nam-Ba,  at  all  events.  It  is 
never  five  minutes  the  same.  One  moment  you  are  in  the 
clouds,  the  next  in  sunlight.  Duncan  looks  up  the  hill  in 
the  morning,  and  is  very  serious  ;  before  they  have  got  to 
the  little  bridge  there  is  blue  sky.  It  is  all  chance.  Do  you 
think  science  can  tell  you  anything  ?  You,  now,  when  you 
bought  that  instrument" — and  here  she  regarded  a  solar 
machine,  the  mirrors  and  brass  mountings  of  which  were 
shining  clear  even  on  this  dull  day — "  did  you  expect  to  get 
enough  sunlight  at  Gress  for  you  to  distil  water  ?" 

A  twinkle  in  the  clear  gray  e^es  showed  that  she  had 
caught  him. 

u  There  are  mysteries  in  science  that  can  not  be  ex- 
plained to   babies,"  said  he  (and  she  thought  it  rather  cool 


YOLANDE.  221 

that  he  remained  sitting,  or  rather  lounging,  instead  <>f 
going  and  fetching  a  chair  for  her).  "Everything  isn't  a8 
easy  as  snipping  out  the  name  of  a  genus  and  pasting  it  at 
the  foot  o£  a  double  sheet  of  white  paper." 

"  That  is  good  of  you  to  remind  me,"  she  said,  without  in 
the  least  being  crushed.  "  One  thing  I  came  for  to-day  was 
the  L'trncea  borealis." 

Th&.i  he  instantly  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"  Certainly,"  said  he  ;  "  come  along  into  the  house.  You 
may  as  well  take  back  the  boards,  and  drying-paper,  and  so 
forth,  with  you  ;  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  use  them  now 
There  may  be  a  few  other  things  you  should  have  out  of 
my  herbarium,  just  to  start  you,  as  it  were — not  rare  plants, 
but  plants  you  are  not  likely  to  get,  up  at  Allt-narn-Ba.  Are 
you  superstitious  ?  I  will  give  you  a  four-leaved  clover, 
if  you  like." 

"  Did  you  find  it  ?" 

44  Yes  ;  in  a  marshy  place  in  Glencoe." 

"  But  it  is  the  finder  to  whom  it  brings  luck,  as  I  have 
read,"  Yolande  said. 

"  Oh,  is  it  so  ?"  he  answered,  carelessly.  "  1  am  not 
learned  in  such  things.  If  you  like,  you  can  have  it  ;  and 
in  the  meantime  we  will  start  you  with  your  JLinaea  and 
a  few  other  things.  I  don't  suppose  the  hand-press  has  ar- 
rived yet  ;  but  mind,  you  must  not  refuse  it." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  she,  gravely  repeating  the  lesson  of  yes- 
terday. "  When  one  wishes  to  be  civil  and  kind  to  you,  you 
have  no  night  to  snub  him." 

The  repetiton  of  the  phrase  seemed  to  remind  him  ;  he 
suddenly  stopped  short,  regarding  her  with  an  odd,  half- 
amused  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Can  you  keep  a  secret  ?" 

*'  I  hope  so." 

"  Well,  now,"  he  said,  rather  under  his  voice,  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  tell  you  a  secret,  which  on  no  account  must  you  tell 
to  Mrs.  Bell.  I  have  just  heard  on  very  good  authority  that 
Monaglen  is  about  to  come  into  the  market,  after  all.  " 

'  Oh,  indeed  !"  said,  she,  with  perfectly  innocent  eyes. 
"  Can  it  be  possible  ?" 

"  Don't  mention  the  thing  to  Mrs.  Bell,  for  you  know 
her  wild  schemes  and  visions,  and  it  would  only  make  her 
unhappy." 

"Why,  then?" 

"  Because  what  she  means  to  do  (if  she  really  means  to  do 


222  YOLANDE. 

it)is  not  practicable,"  he  said,  plainly.  "  Of  course,  if  sh«» 
buys  Monaglen  for  herself,  good  and  well.  She  is  welcome 
to  sit  in  the  hall  of  my  fathers.  I  daresay  she  will  do  more 
good  in  the  neighborhood  than  they  ever  thought  of  doing, 
for  she  is  an  excellent  kind  of  creature.  And  it  is  just 
possible  that,  seeing  me  about  the  place,  she  may  have 
thought  of  some  romantic  project  ;  but  when  once  I  am 
clear  away  from  Gress,  it  will  quite  naturally  and  easily  fade 
from  her  mind." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  away  !  "  she  said  ;  and  that 
sudden  sinking  of  the  heart  ought  to  have  warned  her  ;  but 
indeed  she  had  not  had  a  wide  experience  in  such  matters. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  he,  good-naturedly.  "  How  could  this 
makeshift  last  ?  Of  course  I  must  be  off — but  not  this 
minute,  or  to-morrow.  I  have  started  a  lot  of  things  in  tllis 
neighborhood — with  Mrs.  Bell's  money,  mind — and  I  want 
to  see  them  going  smoothly  ;  then  I  'm  off." 

She  did  not  speak.  Her  eyes  were  distant ;  she  was 
scarcely  conscious  that  her  heart  was  so  disappointed  and 
heavy.  But  she  was  vaguely  aware  that  the  life  she  had 
been  looking  forward  to  in  these  far  solitudes  did  not  seem 
half  so  full  and  rich  now.  There  was  some  loneliness  about 
it — a  vacancy  that  the  mind  discerned,  but  did  not  know 
how  to  fill  up.  Was  it  the  gloom  of  the  day?  She  thought 
of  Allt-nam-Ba  in  the  winter  ;  it  had  no  longer  any  charm 
for  her.  There  was  no  mischief  in  her  brain  now,  no  pre- 
tended innocence  in  her  eyes.  Something  had  befallen — 
she  scarcely  knew  what.  And  when  she  followed  him  into 
the  house,  to  get  the  JLinncea  borealis,  that  little  pathetic 
droop  of  the  mouth  was  marked. 

That  same  afternoon  as  she  was  driving  home,  and  just 
above  the  little  hill  that  goes  down  to  the  bridge  adjacent 
to  Lynn  Towers,  she  met  the  Master,  who  was  coming 
along  on  horseback.  The  drive  had  been  a  sombre  one 
somehow,  for  the  skies  were  gloomy  and  threatening.  But 
when  she  saw  him,  she  brightened  up,  and  gave  him  a  very 
pleasant  greeting. 

"  You  are  quite  a  stranger,"  said  she,  as  they  both 
stopped. 

44  We  have  had  a  good  many  things  to  attend  to  at  the 
Towers,"  lie  said — as  she  thought,  rather  distantly. 

"  I  hear  them  talking  of  having  a  hare  drive  some  day 
Boon — away  at  a  great  distance,  at  tin-  highest  parts.  You 
will  come  and  help  them,  I  suppose  ?  " 


YOLAXDE.  2VJ3 

"I  think  I  must  go  in  to  Inverness,  and  I  may  have  to 
be  there  for  some  days." 

"  You  will  come  and  see  us  before  you  go,  then?"  she 
inquired,  but  rather  puzzled  by  the  strangeness,  almost 
stiffness,  of  his  manner. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  he.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking 
BO  well.  I  hear  they  have  been  having  good  sport  at  Allt- 
nam-Ba.  Well,  I  must  not  detain  you.  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  and  she  drove  on,  wondering.  He  had  not 
even  asked  how  her  father  was.  But  perhaps  these  busi- 
ness affairs  were  weighing  oil  his  mind. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE      GALE. 

As  night  fell,  the  storm  that  Jack  Melville  had  foreseen 
began  to  moan  along  the  upper  reaches  of  the  hills  ;  and 
from  time  to  time  smart  torrents  of  rain  came  rattling  down, 
until  the  roar  of  the  confluent  streams  out  there  in  the  dark 
sounded  ominously  enough.  All  through  the  night,  too,  the 
fury  of  the  gale  steadily  increased ;  the  gusts  of  wind 
sweeping  down  the  gorge  shook  the  small  building  (although 
solidly  built  of  stone)  to  its  very  foundations ;  and  even  the 
fierce  howling  of  the  hurricane  was  as  nothing  to  the  thun- 
der of  the  now  swollen  waters,  that  seemed  to  threaten  to 
carrv  away  the  whole  place  before  them.  Sleep  was 
scarcely  possible  to  the  inmates  of  this  remote  little  lodge ; 
they  knew  not  what  might  not  happen  up  in  this  weather- 
brewing  cauldron  of  a  place  ;  and  at  last,  after  an  anxious 
night,  and  toward  the  blurred  gray  of  the  morning,  they 
must  have  thought  their  worst  fears  were  about  to  be  real- 
ized, for  suddenly  there  was  a  terrific  crash,  as  if  part  of 
the  building  had  given  way.  Almost  instantly  every  bed- 
room door  was  opened  :  clearly  no  one  had  been  asleep. 
And  then,  through  a  white  cloud  of  dust,  they  began  to 
make  out  what  had  happened  ;  and  although  that  was  mere- 
ly the  falling  in  of  part  of  the  ceiling  of  the  hall,  of  course 
they  did  not  know  how  much  more  was  likely  to  come 
down,  and  Mr.  Winterbourne  called  to  Yolande,  sternly 


224  YOLANDE. 

forbidding  her  to  stir.  John  Shortlands  was  the  first  to 
venture  out,  and  through  the  cloud  of  plaster  dust  he  began 
to  make  his  examinations,  furnished  with  a  long  broom- 
handle  that  he  obtained  from  one  of  the  frightened  maids. 

"It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  There  are  one  or  two  other 
pieces  that  must  come  down  ;  then  the  rest  will  be  safe. 
Yolande,  you  can  go  back  to  bed.  What?  Well,  then,  go 
back  and  shut  your  door,  anyway,  until  I  get  Duncan  and 
the  gillies  to  shovel  this  stuff  away.  Don't  come  out 
until  I  tell  you." 

John  Shortlands  then  went  downstairs,  got  a  cap,  and 
opened  the  hall  door.  The  spectacle  outside  was  certainly 
enough  to  deter  any  but  the  bravest.  There  was  no  rain, 
but  the  raging  hurricane  seemed  to  fill  the  atmosphere  with 
a  gray  mist,  while  from  time  to  time  a  gust  would  sweep 
down  into  the  bed  of  the  stream,  tear  the  water  there  into 
a  white  smoke,  and  then  whirl  that  up  the  opposite  hillside 
until  it  was  dissolved  in  the  general  vapor.  But  these 
water-spouts,  he  quickly  perceived,  were  only  formed  down 
there  in  the  opener  stretches  of  the  strath,  where  the  gusts 
could  get  freely  at  the  bed  of  the  stream  ;  up  here  at  Allt- 
nam-Ba  there.was  nothing  but  the  violence  of  the  wind 
that  came  in  successive  shocks  against  the  lodge,  shaking  it 
as  if  it  were  in  the  grip  of  a  vise. 

He  ventured  out.  His  first  experience  was  to  find  his 
deer-stalking  cap,  which  he  greatly  prized,  whirled  from  off 
his  head,  and  sent  flying  away  in  the  direction  of  the  Allt- 
cam-Ban.  But  he  was  not  to  be  daunted.  He  went  in- 
doors again  and  got  another;  and  then,  going  out  and  put- 
ting his  bullet  head  and  his  splendid  bulk  against  the  wind, 
he  fairly  butted  his  way  across  to  the  bothy. 

He  found  Duncan  trying  to  put  up  some  boards  where 
a  window  had  been  blown  in  ;  and  an  angry  man  was  he 
when  he  learned  from  Mr.  Shortlands  what  had  happened 
at  the  lodge. 

"  The  Master  will  give  it  him  !  "  he  said,  savagely. 

"  Whom  ?  " 

"The  plasterer  from  Inverness,  sir.  I  was  telling  him 
it  was  no  use  mending  and  mending,  but  that  it  was  a  whole 
new  ceiling  that  was  wanted,  after  such  a  wild  winter  as 
the  last  winter.  The  Master  will  be  very  angry.  The 


young  lady  might  have  been  hurt.' 
"The  voun<r  la 


young  lady  might   have  been  hurt !  "   said  John 
Shortlands,   ironically.      "  Yes,   I  should  think  so,  if  sho 


YOLANDE  225 

happened  to  have  been  passing.  But  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  Duncan,  is  it  only  women  who  are  hurt  when  th« 
ceiling  of  a  house  falls  on  them  ?  The  men  don't  mind?" 

Duncan  was  quite  impervious  to  irony,  however.  He 
went  away  to  get  Sandy  and  the  rest  of  them  to  help  him 
in  shovelling  off  the  plaster — going  out,  indeed,  into  this 
raging  tempest  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  with  a  bare  head, 
just  as  if  nothing  at  all  unusual  were  happening. 

Of  course  wTith  the  inhabitants  of  the  lodge  there  was  no 
thought  of  stirring  out  that  day.  They  built  up  the  fires 
in  the  little  dining  and  drawing  rooms,  and  took  to  books, 
or  the  arrangement  of  flies,  or  the  watching  at  the  window 
how  the  gale  was  still  playing  its  cantrips — tearing  at  the 
scant  vegetation  of  the  place,  and  occasionally  scooping  up 
one  of  those  vaporous  water-spouts  from  the  bed  of  the 
stream.  Then  Yolande  managed  to  do  a  little  bit  of  house- 
hold adornment — with  some  audible  grumbling. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said,  standing  at  the  dining-room  fire, 
"  did  ever  any  one  see  two  such  untidy  persons  ?  There  is 
a  fine  row  of  ornaments  for  a  mantelshelf!  I  wonder  what 
madame  would  say.  Let  us  see :  First,  some  cartridges  ; 
why  are  they  not  in  the  bag?  Second,  a  dog-whistle.  Third, 
some  casting-lines.  Fourth,  a  fly-book;  well,  I  will  make  a 
little  order  by  putting  the  casting-lines  in  the  book — " 

*'  Let  them  alone,  Yolande,"  her  father  said,  sharply. 
<;  You  will  only  make  confusion." 

She  put  them  in,  nevertheless,  and  continued  her  enu- 
meration : 

"  Fifth,  some  rifle  cartridges  :  and  if  one  were  to  fall  in 
the  fire,  what  then  ?  Sixth,  the  stoppers  of  a  fishing-rod. 
Now,  the  carelessness  of  it !  Why  does  not  Duncan  take 
your  rod  to  pieces,  Mr.  Shortlands,  and  put  in  the  stoppers  ? 
I  know  where  he  keeps  it — outside  the  bothy,  just  over  the 
windows  :  and  think,  now,  how  it  must  have  been  shaken 
last  night.  Think  of  the  varnish  !  " 

"  I  believe  you're  right,  Yolande,"  said  he ;  "  but  it 
saves  a  heap  of  trouble." 

"  Seventh,  a  little  silver  fish  in  a  box — a  deceitful  little 
beast  all  covered  with  hooks.  Eighth,  a  flask,  with  whiskey 
or  some  horrid-smelling  stuff  in  it:  ah,  madame,  what 
would  you  think?  Then  a  telescope:  well,  that  is  some- 
thing better;  that  is  something  better.  Allons,  we  will  go 
and  look  at  the  storm." 

Looking  out  of  the  window  was  clearly   impracticable. 


226  YO  LANDS. 

for  the  panes  were  blurred  ;  but  she  went  to  the  hall  door, 
opened  it,  and  directed  the  glass  down  the  valley.  She 
was  quite  alone ;  the  others  were  busy  with  their  books. 
Then  suddenly  she  called  to  them, — 

"  Come !  come  !  There  is  some  one  that  I  can  see — oh  ! 
imagine  any  one  fighting  against  such  a  storm  !  A  stranger? 
Perhaps  a  friend  from  England  ?  Ah,  such  a  day  to  arrive  1 
Or  perhaps  a  shepherd  ? — no,  there  are  no  dogs  with 
him—" 

Well,  the  appearance  of  a  human  being  on  any  day,  let 
alone  such  a  day  as  this,  in  this  upland  strath,  was  an  event 
and  instantly  they  were  all  at  the  door.  They  could  not  make 
him  out,  much  less  could  they  guess,  .on  what  errand  any 
one,  stranger  or  friend,  should  be  willing  to  venture  himself 
against  such  a  gale.  But  that  figure  away  down  there  kept 
making  headway  against  the  wind.  They  could  see  how  his 
form  was  bent,  his  head  projecting  forward.  He  was  not 
a  shepherd  :  as  Yolande  had  observed,  he  had  no  dogs  with 
him.  He  was  not  the  Master  of  Lynn;  that  figure  belonged 
to  a  bigger  man  than  the  Master. 

"  I'll  tell  you  who  it  is,"  said  John  Shortlands,  curtly. 
"  It's  Jack  Melville.  Three  to  one  on  it." 

"Oh,  the  folly!  "  Yolande  exclaimed,  in  quite  real  dis- 
tress. "  He  will  be  blown  over  a  rock." 

'*  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  John  Shortlands,  to  comfort  her. 
"Tiie  people  about  here  don't  think  anything  of  a  squall 
like  this.  Look  at  Duncan  there,  marching  down  to  dig 
some  potatoes  for  the  cook.  A  head  keeper  in  the  South 
wouldn't  be  as  good-natured  as  that,  I  warrant  you.  They 
are  much  too  swell  gentlemen  there  " 

And  it  was  Jack  Melville,  after  all.  He  was  very  much 
blown  when  he  arrived,  but  he  soon  recovered  breath,  and 
proceeded  to  say  that  he  had  been  afraid  that  the  gale 
might  catch  the  boat  and  do  some  mischief. 

"  And  it  has,"  said  he.  "  It  is  blown  right  over  to  tho 
other  side,  and  apparently  jammed  between  some  rocks. 
So  I  have  come  along  to  got  Donald  and  one  of  the  gillies 
to  go  with  me,  and  we  will  have  it  hauled  clear  up  on  the 
land." 

"  Indeed,  no  !  "  Yolande  protested,  with  pleading  in  her 
face.  "  Oh  no  ! — on  such  a  day  why  should  you  go  out? 
Come  in  and  stay  with  us.  What  is  a  boat,  then — " 

*'  But,"  said  he,  with  a  sort  of  laugh,  "  I  am  afraid  I  am 


YOLANDE.  227 

partly  responsible  for  it.  I  was  the  last  that  used  tho 
boat." 

"  Never  mind  it,"  said  she  :  <c  what  is  it — a  boat !  No, 
you  must  not  go  through  the  storm  again." 

"Oh,  hut  we  are  familiar  with  these  things  up  here," 
said  lie,  good-naturedly.  "  If  you  really  mean  to  invite 
me  in,  I  will  come — after  Donald  and  I  have  gone  down 
lo  the  loch." 

•'  Will  you?  "  she  said,  with  her  bright  face  full  of  wel- 
come :md  gladness. 

"  I  must  come  back  with  my  report,  you  know,  "  said  he. 
"  For  I  am  afraid  she  may  have  got  knocked  about ;  and  if 
there  is  any  damage,  I  must  make  it  good." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  Mr.  Winterbourne  interrupted. 

"  Oh,  but  I  must.  It  is  Lord  Lynn's  boat ;  and  there 
are  people  from  whom  one  is  not  quick  to  accept  an  obliga- 
tion. But  then  there  are  other  people,"  said  he,  turning  to 
Yolande,  *'  from  whom  you  can  receive  any  number  of 
favors  with  great  pleasure  ;  and  if  you  don't  mind  my  stay- 
ing to  lunch  with  you — if  I  may  invite  myself  to  stay  so 
long—" 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  have  allowed  you  to  go  away 
before  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  touch  of  pride  in  her  tone :  she 
hud  got  to  know  something  of  Highland  ways  and  customs. 

So  he  and  Donald  and  two  others  went  away  down  the 
glen,  and  in  about  a  couple  of  hours  came  back  with  the 
report  that  the  boat  was  now  placed  in  a  secure  position, 
but  that  it  had  had  two  planks  stove  in,  and  would  have  to 
be  sent  to  Inverness  for  repair,  Jack  Melville  insisting  on 
taking  that  responsibility  on  his  own  shoulders,  although, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Master  of  Lynn  had  assisted  him  in 
dragging  the  boat  up  onthe  last  occasion  on  which  it  had  been 
used.  As  for  Yolande,  she  did  no-t  care  for  any  trumpery 
boat ;  was  it  not  enough  that  their  friend  should  have  come 
to  keep  them  company  on  this  wild  and  solitary  day  ?  Then 
there  was  another  thing.  She  had  determined  to  astonish 
the  gentlemen  with  the  novelty  of  a  hot  luncheon,  and 
here  was  another  who  would  see  what  the  little  household 
could  do !  Indeed,  it  was  a  banquet,  Her  father  drew 
pointed  attention  to  the  various  things  (although  he  was 
himself  far  enough  from  being  a  gourmand).  A  venison 
pasty  John  Shortlands  declared  to  have  been  the  finest  dish 
he  had  encountered  for  many  a  clay.  He  wished  to  heavens 
they  could  make  a  salad  like  that  at  the  Abercorn  Club. 


228  YOLANDE. 

"Is  it  not  nice  to  see  them  so  grateful  ?  "  said  she,  turn- 
ing with  one  of  her  brightest  smiles  to  the  stranger  guest, 
"  The  poor  things  !  No  wonder  they  are  pleased.  The 
other  day  I  climbed  away  up  the  hill  to  surprise  them  at 
their  lunch — oh,  you  can  not  imagine  the  miserableness  oi 
it!  Duncan  told  me  where  I  should  find  them.  The  day 
was  so  dull  and  cold,  the  clouds  low  down,  and  before  I 
was  near  the  top,  a  rainy  drizzle  began — " 

"  They  generally  say  a  drizzling  rain  in  English,"  her 
father  said. 

"  But  we  are  not  in  England.  It  is  a  rainy  drizzle  in 
the  Highlands,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Melville  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  matter  how  you  take  it,"  he  answered ; 
"  but  we  get  plenty  of  it." 

"  Then  the  cold  wet  all  around,  and  the  heather  wet; 
and  I  went  on  and  on — not  a  voice — not  a  sign  of  any  one. 
Then  a  dog  came  running  to  me — that  was  Bella — and  I 
said  to  myself,  '  Aha,  I  have  found  you  now!'  Then  we 
went  on;  and  at  last — the  spectacle! — the  poor  people  all 
crouched  down  in  a  peat-hag,  hiding  from  the  rain  ;  papa 
seated  on  a  game-bag  that  he  had  put  on  a  stone  ;  Mr. 
Shortlands  on  another ;  their  coat  collars  up,  the  plates  on 
their  knees,  the  knives,  forks,  cold  beef,  and  bread  all  wet 
with  the  rain — oh,  such  a  picture  of  miserableness  has  never 
been  seen !  Do  you  wonder  that  they  are  grateful,  then — 
do  you  wonder  that  they  approve — when  they  have  a  fire, 
and  a  warm  room,  and  dry  plates,  and  dry  knives  and 
forks  ?  " 

Indeed  they  had  a  very  pleasant  meal,  and  the  coffee 
and  cigars  after  it  lasted  a  longtime;  for  of  what  good  was 
anything  but  laziness  so  long  as  the  wind  howled  and 
roared  without?  All  the  time,  however,  Jack  Melville  was 
wondering  how  he  could  have  a  few  minutes'  private  talk 
with  Mr.  Shortlands ;  and  as  that  seemed  to  be  becoming 
less  and  less  probable — for  Mr.  Winterbourne  seemed  con- 
tent to  have  an  idle  day  there  in  his  easy-chair  by  the  fire, 
and  Yolande  was  seated  on  the  hearthrug  at  his  knees,  quite 
content  to  be  idle  too — he  had  to  adopt  a  somewhat  wild 
pretext.  John  Shortlands  was  describing  the  newest  variety 
of  hammcrless  gun  ;  then  he  spoke  of  the  one  he  himself 
had  bought  just  before  coining  north.  Melville  pretended 
a  great  interest.  Was  it  in  the  bothy  ?  Yes.  Might  they 
not  run  over  for  a  couple  of  minutes  ?  Yolande  protested  ; 


YO LANDS.  229 

but  John  Shortlands  nssented  ;  so  these  two  ventured  out 
together  to  fight  tlieir  way  across. 

Instead  of  going  into  the  central  apartment  of  the  bothy, 
however,  where  the  guns  stood  on  a  rack,  Melville  turned 
into  the  next  apartment,  which  was  untenanted,  and  which 
happened  to  be  warm  enough,  for  Duncan  had  just  been 
preparing  porridge  for  the  dogs,  and  a  blazing  fire  still 
burned  under  the  boiler. 

44 1  wanted  to  say  a  word  to  you," 

"  I  guessed  as  much.     What's  your  news  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  very  good, "said  Jack  Melville,  rather  gloom- 
ily, "and  I  don't  like  to  be  the  bearer  of  bad  news.  I 
meant  to  tell  you  the  other  evening,  and  I  could  not  do  it 
somehow." 

"  Oh,  out  with  it,  man  !  never  fear.  I  like  to  hear  the 
worst,  and  then  hit  it  on  the  head  with  a  hammer  if  I  can. 
There  would  have  been  none  of  this  trouble  if  I  had  had 
my  way  from  the  beginning — however  that's  neither  here 
nor  there." 

44 1  am  afraid  I  am  the  bearer  of  an  ultimatum,"  Mel- 
ville said. 

"Well?" 

It  was  clear  that  Melville  did  not  like  this  office  at  all. 
He  kept  walking  up  and  down  the  earthen  floor,  though 
the  space  was  limited  enough,  his  brows  contracted,  his 
eyes  bent  on  the  ground. 

44  It  is  awkward  for  me,"  he  said,  rather  impatiently. 
"  I  wish  I  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But  you  cannot 
call  me  an  intermeddler,  for  you  yourself  put  this  thing  on 
me  ;  and — and —  Well,  it  is  not  my  business  either  to  jus- 
tify or  condemn  my  friend  :  I  can  only  tell  you  that  I  con- 
sidered it  was  safest  and  wisest  he  should  know  the  true 
state  of  affairs.  If  I  have  erred  in  that,  well — " 

44 1  don't  think  you  have,"  said  Shortlands,  slowly.  '4 1 
left  it  open  to  your  decision — to  your  knowledge  of  this 
young  fellow.  But  I  think  my  decision  would,  in  any  case, 
have  been  the  same." 

44  Very  well.  I  think  I  put  the  whole  matter  fairly  to 
him.  I  told  him  that  he  had  practically  no  risk  to  run  of 
any  annoyance,  and  that  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble,  poor 
wretch,  would  soon  be  out  of  the  way ;  and  then  I  told  him 
what  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  gone  through  for  the  sake  ol 
his  daughter.  Well,  he  did  not  seem  to  see  it  that  way. 


230  YOLANDE. 

He  was  quite  frank.     He  said  it  was  a  mistaken  Quixotism 
that  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  it  all." 

"  I  said  so  too  ;  but  still " 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  opinion  ;  it  is  of  no  immediate  conse- 
quence," Melville  said.  "  But  what  he  seemed  quite  re- 
solved on  was  that  he  would  not  consent  to  become  a  party 
to  this  secrecy.  He  says  everything  must  be  met  and  faced. 
There  must  be  no  concealment.  In  short,  Yolande  must 
be  told  the  whole  story,  so  that  in  case  of  any  further  an- 
noyance there  should  be  no  dread  of  her  discovering  it,  but 
only  the  simple  remedy  of  appealing  to  a  constable." 

John  Shortlands  considered  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  isn't  quite  right,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  Yes  I  imagine  his  position  is  a  fair  one.     At  one  time  I 
said  the  same.      I  can  look  at  it  from  his  point  of  view.     I 
think  we  must  admit,  as  men  of  the  world,  that  he  is  per- 
fectly in  the  right.     But" — and  here  he  spoke  a  little  more 
?uickly — "  I  can't  help  speaking  what  is  on  my  mind  ;  and 
say  that  if  you  think  of  what  Winterbourne   has  done  for 
this  girl,  this  ultimatum,  if  you  call  it  so,   from  the  fellow 
who  pretends  to  be  her  sweetheart,  from  the  fellow  who 
wants  her  for  a  wife — well,  I  call  it  a — shabby  thing !  " 

Melville's  face  flushed.  "  I  am  not  his  judge,"  he 
said  coldly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  John  Shortlands  said  ;  for  his  an- 
ger was  of  short  duration.  "  I  ought  to  have  remembered 
that  this  young  Leslie  is  your  friend,  as  Winterbourne  is 
mine.  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  can  do  no  more." 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  said  Melville  in  the  same  measured 
way.  *'  I  wish  you  distinctly  to  understand  that  I  express 
no  opinion  whatever  on  Mr.  Leslie's  decision  ;  and  I  must 
ask  you  to  remember  that  1  certainly  can  not  be  supposed 
to  approve  of  it  simply  because  I  am  a  messenger." 

"  Quite  so — quite  so ;  I  quite  understand,"  John  Short- 
lands  said.  "  The  least  said  the  easiest  mended.  Let's  see 
what  is  to  be  done.  I  suppose  there  was  no  doubt  in  his 
mind — no  hesitation  ?  " 

«  None." 

"  It  would  be  no  good  trying  to  talk  him  over?" 

"I,  for  one,  will  not  attempt  it.  No,  his  message  was 
distinct.  I  think  you  may  take  it  as  final.  Perhaps  I  ought 
to  add  that  he  may  have  been  influenced  by  the  fact  that 
his  people  at  the  Towers  seem  to  have  been  quarrelling 
with  him  about  this  marriage,  and  he  has  not  the  best  of 


YOLANDE.  231 

tempers  at  times,  and  I  think  he  feels  injured.  However, 
that  is  not  part  of  my  message.  My  message  was  distinct, 
as  I  say.  It  was,  in  fact,  an  ultimatum." 

"  Iroor  Winterbourne  !  "  John  Shortlandssaid,  absently. 
"  I  wonder  what  he  will  look  like  when  I  tell  him.  All 
his  labor  and  care  and  anxiety  gone  for  nothing.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  tell  him  ;  there  must  be  an  explanation  ;  I  dare 
say  that  young  fellow  won't  come  near  the  lodge  now  until 
there  is  an  understanding.  Winterbourne  will  scarcely  be- 
lieve me.  Poor  devil — all  his  care  and  anxiety  gone  for 
nothing  !  I  don't  mind  about  her  so  much.  She  has  pluck  ; 
she'll  face  it.  But  Winterbourne — I  wonder  what  his  face 
will  look  like  to-night  when  I  tell  him." 

"  Well,  I  have  done  my  best  and  my  worst,  I  suppose 
however  it  turns  out,"  said  Jack  Melville,  after  a  second  01 
two.     "  And  now  I  will  bid  you  good-by." 
'  But  you  are  going  into  the  house  ?  " 
"No," 

w No? "said  the  other,  in  astonishment.  "You'll  bid 
them  good-by,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  cannot !  "  said  Melville,  turning  himself  away  in  a 
manner.  "  Why,  to  look  at  that  girl — and  to  think  of  the 
man  she  is  going  to  marry  having  no  more  regard  for  her 
than  to — "  But  be  suddenly  recalled  himself  :  this  was 
certainly  not  maintaining  his  attitude  of  impartiality. 
"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose  I  must  go  in  to  bid  them  good- 
by." 

They  were  loath  to  let  him  depart,  Mr.  Winterbourne, 
indeed,  wishing  him  to  remain  for  dinner  and  stay  the 
night.  But  they  could  not  prevail  on  him  ;  and  soon  he 
was  making  his  way  with  his  long  strides  down  the  glen, 
the  gale  now  assisting  instead  of  impeding  his  progress, 
John  Shortlands  (who  was  apt  to  form  sudden  and  rather 
violent  prepossessions  and  prejudices)  was  looking  after  him, 
as  the  tall  figure  grew  more  and  more  distant. 

"  There  goes  a  man,"  he  was  saying  to  himself ;  "  and  I 
wish  to  heavens  he  would  kick  that  hound  !  " 


YOLANDE, 


ITAPTER  XXIX. 

SURMISES. 

THE  gale  was  followed  by  heavy  rain  ;  there  was  no  go- 
ing out  the  next  day.  But  indeed  it  \yas  not  of  shooting 
that  those  two  men  were  thinking. 

"  He  might  have  spared  her!  he  might  have  spared  her  !  " 
was  Mr.  Winterbourne's  piteous  cry,  as  he  sat  in  his  friend's 
room  and  gazed  out  through  the  streaming  window-panes 
on  the  dismal  landscape  beyond. 

And  who  was  to  tell  her  ?  Who  was  to  bring  grief  and 
humiliation  on  that  fair  young  life  ?  Who  was  to  rob  her 
of  that  beautiful  dream  and  vision  that  her  mother  had  al- 
ways been  to  her  ?  Not  he,  for  one.  He  could  not  do  it. 

And  then  (for  he  was  a  nervous,  apprehensive  man,  al- 
ways ready  to  conjure  up  distressing  possibilities)  might 
she  not  misunderstand  all  this  that  had  been  done  to  keep 
her  in  ignorance  ?  Might  she  not  be  angry  at  having  all  her 
life  been  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  concealment  ?  If 
she  were  to  mistake  the  reason  of  her  father's  having 
stooped  to  subterfuge  and  deceit  ?  Was  Yolande  going  to 
despise  him,  then — she,  the  only  being  in  the  world  whose 
opinion  he  cared  for?  And  always  his  speculations  and  fears 
and  anxious  conjectures  came  back  to  this  one  point, — 

"He  might  have  spared  her!  he  might  have  spared 
her!" 

"Now  look  here,  Winterbourne,"  John  Shortlands  said, 
in  his  plain-spoken  way.  "  If  I  were  you  before  I  would 
say  a  word  of  this  story  to  Yolande  I  would  make  sure  that 
that  would  be  sufficient  for  him.  I  don't  know.  I  am  not 
sure.  He  says  that  Yolande  must  be  told  ;  but  will  that 
suffice  ?  Is  that  all  he  wants  ?  If  I  were  in  your  place  I 
would  have  a  clear  understanding.  Do  you  know,  I  can't 
help  thinking  there  is  something  behind  all  this  that  hasn't 
come  out.  If  this  young  fellow  is  really  in  earnest  about 
Yolande — if  he  is  really  fond  of  her — I  don't  think  he 
would  put  this  stumbling-block  in  the  way,  I  don't  think 
he  would  exact  this  sacrifice  from  you,  unless  there  were 
some  other  reason.  Yesterday  afternoon  Melville  said  as 


YOLANDE.  233 

little  as  he  could.  He  didn't  like  the  job.  But  he  hinted 
something  about  a  disagreement  between  young  Leslie  and 
his  family  over  this  marriage." 

"  I  guessed  as  much,"  said  Mr.  Winterbourne.  "Yes, 
I  have  suspected  it  for  some  time.  Otherwise  I  suppose 
his  father  and  aunt  would  have  called  on  Yolande.  They 
know  each  other.  Yolande  stayed  a  night  at  the  Towers 
when  Mrs.  Graham  first  brought  her  here — until  the  lodge 
was  got  ready." 

"  Of  course  if  the  fellow  has  any  pluck,  he  won't  let 
that  stand  in  his  way.  In  the  meantime,  a  domestic  row 
isn't  pleasant,  and  I  dare  say  he  is  impatient  -and  angry. 
Why  should  he  revenge  himself  on  Yolande,  one  might  ask  ? 
But  that  is  not  the  fair  way  of  putting  it.  I  can  see  one 
explanation.  I  didn't  see  it  yesterday  ;  and  the  fact  is,  I 
got  pretty  wild  when  I  learned  how  matters  stood,  and  my 
own  impression  was  that  kicking  was  a  sight  too  good  for 
him.  I  have  been  thinking  over  it  since,  though  :  the  rain 
last  night  kept  me  awake.  And  now  I  can  understand  his 
saying,  '  Well,  I  mean  to  marry  in  spite  of  them  ;  but  I  will 
take  care,  before  I  marry,  to  guard  against  any  risk  of 
their  being  able  to  taunt  me  afterward/  And  then,  no 
doubt,  he  may  have  had  some  sort  of  notion  that,  when 
there  was  no  more  concealment,  when  every  one  knew  how 
matters  stood,  some  steps  might  be  taken  to  prevent  the 
recurrence  of — of — you  know.  Well,  there  is  something  in 
that.  I  don't  see  that  the  young  fellow  is  so  unreasonable." 

Mr.  Winterbourne  was  scarcely  listening,  his  eyes  looked 
haggard  and  wretched. 

"  When  I  took  this  shooting,"  he  said,  absently,  "  when 
the  place  was  described  to  me,  on  the  voyage  out,  I  thought 
to  myself  that  surely  there  Yolande  and  I  would  be  safe 
from  all  anxiety  and  trouble.  And  then  again,  up  the  Nile, 
day  after  day  I  used  to  think  of  her  being  married  and 
settled  in  this  remote  place,  and  used  to  say  to  myself  that 
then  at  last  everything  would  be  right.  And  here  we  are 
face  to  face  with  more  trouble  than  ever." 

u  Nonsense,  man  !  nonsense  !  "  John  Shortlands  said, 
cheerfully.  "  You  exaggerate  things.  I  thought  this  moun- 
tain work  would  have  given  you  a  better  nerve.  Every- 
thing will  be  right — in  time.  Do  you  expect  the  young 
people  never  to  have  any  trouble  at  all  ?  I  tell  you  every- 
thing will  be  right — in  time.  You  pull  up  your  courage; 
there  is  nothing  so  dreadful  about  it ;  and  the  end  is  certain 


234  YOLANDE. 

— wedding  bolls,  old  slippers,  speeches,  and  a  thundering 
headache  the  next  morning  after  confectioner's  champagne. 

The  haggard  eyes  did  not  respond. 

"And  who  is  to  tell  her?  The  shock  will  be  terrible — • 
it  may  kill  her." 

"  Nonsense  !  nonsense  !  Whoever  is  to  tell  her,  it  must 
not  be  you.  You  would  make  such  a  fuss ;  you  would 
make  it  far  more  desperate  than  it  is.  Why,  you  might 
frighten  her  into  declaring  that  she  would  not  marry — that 
she  would  not  ask  her  husband  to  run  the  risk  of  some  pub- 
lic scandal.  That  would  be  a  pretty  state  of  affairs — and 
not  unlikely  on  the  part  of  a  proud,  spirited  girl  like  that. 
No,  no  ;  whoever  tells  her  must  put  the  matter  in  its  proper 
light.  It  is  nothing  so  very  desperate.  It  will  turn  out  all 
right.  And  you  for  one  should  be  very  glad  that  the  Master, 
as  you  call  him,  now  knows  the  whole  story ;  for  after  the 
marriage,  whatever  happens,  he  cannot  come  back  on  you 
and  say  you  had  deceived  him. 

**  After  the  marriage  !  And  what  sort  of  a  happy  life 
is  Yolande  likely  to  lead  when  his  relatives  object  to  her 
already?" 

"  There  you  are  off  again  !  More  difficulties  !  Why, 
man,  these  things  must  be  taken  as  they  come.  You  don't 
know  that  they  object,  and  I  don't  believe  they  can  object 
to  her,  though  the  old  gentleman  mayn't  quite  like  the  color 
of  your  politics.  But  supposing  they  do,  what's  the  odds  ? 
They  can't  interfere.  You  will  settle  enough  on  Yolande 
to  let  the  young  couple  live  comfortably  enough  until  the 
old  gentleman  and  his  sister  arrive  at  common  sense — or 
the  churchyard.  I  don't  see  any  difficulty  about  it.  If 
only  those  people  were  to  marry  whose  friends  and  relatives 
on  both  sides  approved,  you  might  just  as  well  cut  the 
Marriage  Service  out  of  the  Prayer-book  at  once." 

This  was  all  that  was  said  at  the  time,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  it  left  Mr.  Winterbourne  pretty  much  in  the 
same  mood  of  anxious  perturbation.  His  careworn  face 
instantly  attracted  Yolande's  notice,  and  she  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter.  He  answered  that  there  was  nothing  the 
matter,  except  the  dulness  of  the  day  perhaps,  and  for  the 
moment  she  was  satisfied.  But  she  was  not  long  satisfied. 
She  became  aware  that  there  was  trouble  somewhere; 
there  was  a  kind  of  constraint  in  the  social  atmosphere  of 
the  house;  she  even  found  the  honest  and  hearty  John 
Shortlands  given  to  moody  staring  into  the  fire-  So  she 


YOLANDE.  235 

went  to  her  own  room,  and  sat  down  and  wrote  the  follow- 
ing note : — 

"  ALLT-NAM-BA.  Friday. 

"  MY  DEAR  ARCHIE, — We  are  all  in  a  state  of  dreadful 
depression  here,  on  account  of  the  bad  weather,  and  the 
gentlemen  shut  up  with  nothing  to  do.  Please,  please  take 
pity  on  us,  and  come  along  to  dinner  at  seven.  Last  night, 
in  spite  of  the  gale,  Duncan  played  the  '  Hills  of  Lynn'  out- 
side after  dinner,  and  it  seemed  a  kind  of  message  that  you 
ought  to  have  been  here.  I  believe  the  gentlemen  have 
fixed  next  Tuesday,  if  the  weather  is  fine,  for  the  driving 
of  the  hares  on  the  far-off  heights:  and  I  know  they  expect 
you  to  go  with  them  ;  and  we  have  engaged  a  whole  crowd 
of  shepherds  and  others  to  help  in  the  beating.  There  is 
to  be  a  luncheon  where  the  Uska-nanrShean,  as  Duncan 
calls  it,  but  I  am  afraid  the  spelling  is  not  right,  comes  into 
the  Allt  Crorn,  and  it  will  not  be  difficult  for  me  to  reach 
there,  so  that  I  can  see  how  you  have  been  getting  on.  Do 
you  know  that  Monaglen  is  for  sale  ? — what  a  joy  it  will 
be  if  Mr.  Melville  should  get  it  back  again  after  all !  that 
will  indeed  be  *  Melville's  Welcome  Home !"  You  will 
make  us  all  very  happy  if  you  will  come  along  at  seven, 
and  spend  the  evening  with  us.  Yours  affectionately. 

"  YOLANDE." 

She  sent  this  out  to  be  taken  to  Lynn  Towers  by  one  of 
the  gillies,  who  was  to  wait  for  an  answer ;  and  in  some- 
thing more  than  an  hour  the  lad  on  the  sturdy  little  black 
pony  brought  back  this  note : 

"  LYNN  TOWEBS,  Friday,  afternoon. 

"  DEAR  YOLANDE, — I  regret  very  much  that  I  cannot 
dine  with  you  to-night ;  and  as  for  Tuesday,  I  am  afraid 
that  will  be  also  impossible,  as  I  go  to  Inverness  to-morrow. 
I  hope  they  will  have  a  good  day.  Yours  sincerely, 

"  A.  LESLIE." 

She  regarded  this  answer  at  first  with  astonishment ; 
then  she  felt  inclined  to  laugh. 

"  Look  at  this,  then,  for  a  love-letter ! "  she  said  to 
herself. 

But  by  and  by  she  began  to  attach  more  importance 
to  it.  The  coldness  of  it  seemed  studied  ;  yet  she  had  dono 
nothing  that  she  knew  of  to  offend  him.  What  was  amiss? 
Could  he  be  dissatisfied  with  her  conduct  in  any  direction  ? 


236  YOLANDE. 

She  had  tried  to  be  most  kind  to  him,  as  was  her  duty,  and 
initil  quite  recently  they  had  been  on  most  friendly  terms. 
What  had  she  done  ?  Then  she  began  to  form  the  suspi- 
cion that  her  father  and  John  Shortlands  were  concealing 
something — she  knew  not  what — from  her.  Had  it  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  Master  ?  Had  it  anything  to  do  with 
the  singular  circumstance  that  not  even  the  most  formal 
visiting  relationship  had  been  established  between  Lynn 
Towers  and  the  lodge  ?  Why  did  her  father  seem  disturbed 
when  she  proposed  to  send  a  haunch  of  venison  to  the  Tow 
ers — the  most  common  act  of  civility  ? 

It  was  strange  that,  with  these  disquieting  surmises  go- 
ing on  in  her  brain,  she  should  think  of  seeking  information 
and  counsel,  not  from  her  father  nor  from  Mr.  Shortlands, 
nor  from  the  Master  of  Lynn,  but  from  Jack  Melville.  It 
was  quite  spontaneously  and  naturally  that  she  thought  she 
would  like  to  put  all  her  difficulties  before  him  ;  but  on  re- 
flection she  justified  herself  to  herself.  He  was  most  likely 
to  know,  being  on  friendly  terms  with  everybody.  If  there 
was  nothing  to  disquiet  her — nothing  to  reproach  herself 
with — he  was  just  the  person  to  laugh  the  whole  thing 
away,  and  send  her  home  satisfied.  She  could  trust  him. 
He  did  not  treat  her  quite  so  much  as  a  child  as  the  others 
did.  Even  when  he  spoke  bluntly  to  her,  in  his  school- 
masterish  way,  she  had  a  vague  and  humorous  suspicion 
that  he  was  quite  aware  that  their  companionship  was  much 
more  on  a  common  footing  than  all  that  came  to ;  and  that 
she  submitted  because  she  thought  it  pleased  him.  Then 
she  had  got  to  believe  that  he  would  do  much  for  her.  If 
she  asked  him  to  tell  her  honestly  what  he  knew, 
he  would.  The  others  might  try  to  hide  things  from  her; 
they  might  wish  to  be  considerate  toward  her ;  they  might 
be  afraid  of  wounding  her  sensitiveness ;  whereas  she 
knew  that  if  she  went  to  John  Melville  he  would  speak 
straight  to  her,  for  she  had  arrived  at  the  still  further  con- 
clusion that  he  knew  he  could  trust  her,  as  she  trusted  him. 
Altogether,  it  was  a  dangerous  situtation. 

Next  morning  had  an  evil  and  threatening  look  about  it ; 
but  fortunately  there  was  a  brisk  breeze,  and  towards  noon 
that  had  so  effectually  swept  the  clouds  over  that  the  long 
wide  valley  was  filled  with  bright  warm  sunshine.  Yolnnde 
resolved  to  drive  in  to  Gress.  There  was  no  game  to  takf 
to  Foyers  ;  but  there  were  two  consignments  of  household 
materials  from  Inverness  to  be  fetched  from  Whitebridge. 


YOLANDE.  237 

Besides,  she  wanted  to  know  what  Mrs.  Bell  had  done 
about  Monaglen  and  the  lawyers.  And  besides,  she  want- 
ed to  know  where  Alchcmilla  arvensis  ended  and  A.  alpina 
began  ;  for  she  had  got  one  or  two  varieties  that  seemed  to 
come  in  between,  and  she  had  all  a  beginner's  faith  in  the 
strict  lines  of  species.  There  was,  in  short,  an  abundance 
of  reasons. 

On  arriving  at  Gress,  however,  she  found  that  Mr. 
Melville,  having  finished  his  forenoon  work  in  the  school, 
had  gone  off  to  his  electric  storehouse  away  up  in  the  hills  ; 
and  so  she  sent  on  the  dog-cart  to  Whitebridge,  and  was 
content  to  wait  awhile  with  Mrs.  Bell. 

41  I'll  just  send  him  a  message,  and  he'll  come  down 
presently." 

«'  Oh  no,  please  don't ;  it  is  a  long  way  to  send  any  one," 
Yolande  protested. 

"  It's  no  a  long  way  to  send  a  wee  bit  flash  o'  fire,  or 
whatever  it  is  that  sets  a  bell  ringing  up  there,"  said  the 
old  dame.  "  It's  wonderful,  his  devices'  Sometimes  I  think 
it's  mair  than  naitural.  Over  there,  in  the  laboratory,  he 
has  got  a  kind  of  ear-trumpet;  and  if  you  take  out  the  stop- 
per, and  listen  in  quateness,  you'll  hear  every  word  that's 
going  on  in  the  school." 

"That  is  what  they  call  a  telephone,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  The  very  thing  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bell,  as  she  left  the  room 
to  send  a  message  to  him. 

When  she  came  back  she  was  jubilant. 

"  My  dear  young  leddy,  I  am  that  glad  to  see  ye  !  I've 
sent  the  letter." 

"  What  letter?" 

"  To  the  lawyers.  Oh,  I  was  a  lang,  lang  time  thinking 
o't,  for  they  lawyers  are  kittle  cattle  to  deal  wi' ;  and  I 
kenned  fine  if  I  was  too  eager  they  would  jalotise  what  I 
was  after,  and  then  they  would  be  up  to  their  pranks,  So 
I  just  telled  them  that  I  did  not  want  Monaglen  for  mysel' 
— which  is  as  true's  the  Gospel — but  that  if  they  happened 
to  hear  what  was  the  lowest  price  that  would  betaken,  they 
might  send  me  word,  in  case  I  should  come  across  a  custo- 
mer for  them.  It  doesna  do  to  be  too  eager  about  a  bar- 
gain, especially  wi'  they  lawyers  ;  it's  just  inviting  them  to 
commit  a  highway  robbery  on  ye." 

"If  Mr.  Melville,"  said  Yolande,  quickly,  "were  to 
have  Monaglen,  he  would  still  remain  in  this  neighborhood, 
then  ?  " 


238  YOLANDE. 

"  Nae  doot  about  that !  It'll  be  a'  a  man's  wark  to  put 
the  place  to  rights  again  ;  for  the  factor  is  a  puir  body,  and 
the  young  gentleman  never  came  here — he  has  plenty  else- 
where, I  have  been  told." 

"  Air.  Melville  would  still  be  living  here  ?"  said  Yolande, 
eagerly. 

"  At  Monaglen,  ay,  and  it's  no  so  far  away.  But  it  will 
mak*  a  difference  to  me,"  the  old  dame  said,  with  a  sigh. 
"  For  I  have  got  used  to  his  ways  about  the  hoose,  and  it 
will  seem  empty  like." 

44  Then  you  will  not  go  to  Monaglen  ?  " 

"'Deed,  no  ;  that  would  never  do.  I  wouldna  like  to  go 
as  a  servant,  for  I  have  been  living  too  long  in  idleness ; 
and  I  couldna  go  back  in  any  other  kind  of  a  way,  for  I  ken 
my  place.  Na,  na ;  I  will  just  bide  where  I  am,  and  I  will 
keep  £220  a  year  or  thereabouts  for  mysel' ;  and  wi'  that  I 
can  mak'  ends  meet  brawly,  in  spite  o'  they  spend rif  hus- 
sies." 

These  romantic  projects  seemed  to  have  a  great  fascina- 
tion for  this  good  dame  (who  had  seen  far  less  that  was  at- 
tractive in  the  prospect  of  being  given  away  in  marriage  by 
a  famous  duke),  and  she  and  Yolande  kept  on  talking  about 
them  with  much  interest,  until  a  step  outside  on  the  gravel 
caused  the  color  to  rush  to  the  girl's  face.  She  did  not 
know  that  when  she  rose  on  his  entrance.  She  did  not  know 
that  she  looked  embarrassed,  because  she  did  not  feel  em- 
barrassed. Always  she  had  a  sense  of  safety  in  his  pres- 
ence. She  had  not  to  watch  her  words,  or  think  of  what  he 
was  thinking  of  what  she  was  saying.  And  on  this  occa- 
sion she  did  not  even  make  the  pretence  of  having  come 
about  Alchemitta  alpina.  She  apologized  for  having  brought 
him  down  from  his  electric  works,  asked  him  if  he  would 
take  a  turn  in  the  garden  for  a  minute  or  two,  as  she  had 
something  to  say  to  him,  and  then  went  out,  he  following. 
She  did  not  notice  that  when  she  made  this  last  remark  his 
face  looked  rather  grave. 

"Mr.  Leslie  went  to  Inverness  this  morning?"  she  said, 
when  they  were  out  in  the  garden. 

"  Yes  ;  he  looked  in  as  he  was  passing." 

"  Do  you  know  why  he  went  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  he ;  "I  believe  they  have  been  having 
•ome  dispute  about  the  marches  of  the  forest ;  but  I  am 
told  it  is  to  be  all  amicably  settled.  I  fancy  Archie  is  going 
to  have  the  matter  squaied  up  in  Inverness." 


YOLANDE.  239 

She  hesitated  then.  She  took  up  a  flower,  regarded  it 
for  a  second,  and  then  looked  him  fair  in  the  face. 

"Mr.  Melville,"  said  she,  "  Jo  you  think  it  strange  that 
I  ask  you  this  question  ? — you  are  Mr.  Leslie's  friend  :  is  he 
offended  with  me  ?  " 

His  eyes  were  looking  at  hers  too — rather  watchfully. 
lie  was  on  his  guard. 

*'  I  have  not  the  slightest  reason  to  suppose  that  he  is," 
wns  the  answer,  given  with  some  earnestness,  for  he  was 
glad  to  find  the  question  so  simple. 

"  None?  I  have  not  done  anything  that  he  could  com- 
plain of — to  you  or  to  any  one  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  I  never  heard  him  breathe  a  word  of  the 
kind.  Besides,"  added  he,  with  a  very  unusual  warmth  in 
his  pale  cheeks,  "  I  wouldn't  listen.  No  man  could  be  such 
a  coward — " 

"  Oh,  pljase  don't  think  that  I  am  angry,"  she  said,  with 
earnest  entreaty.  "Please  don't  think  I  have  to  complain. 
Oil  no !  But  every  one  knows  what  mischief  is  wrought 
sometimes  by  mistake ;  some  one  being  offended  and  not 
giving  a  chance  of  explanation  ;  and — I  was  only  anxious 
to  be  assured  that  I  had  done  nothing  to  vex  him.  His 
going  away  without  seeing  us  seemed  so  strange — yes  ;  and 
also  his  not  coming  of  late  to  the  lodge  ;  and — and  my  papa 
seems  to  be  troubled  about  something ;  so  that  I  became 
anxious  ;  and  I  knew  you  would  tell  me  the  truth,  if  no  one 
olse  would.  And  it  is  all  right  then  ?  There  is  no  reason 
to  be  disturbed,  to  »»e  anxious?  " 

He  was  disturbed,  at  all  events,  and  sorely  perplexed. 
He  dared  not  meet  her  eyes  ;  they  seemed  to  read  him 
through  and  through  when  he  ventured  to  look  up. 

"  Don't  imagine  for  a  moment  that  you  have  anything 
to  reproach  yourself  with — not  for  a  moment,"  he  said. 

"  Has  any  one,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  no.  But — but — well,  I  will  be  honest  with  you, 
Yolande  :  there  has  been  a  little  trouble — at  the  Towers. 
The  old  people  are  not  easy  to  please  ;  and — and  Archie  has 
too  much  spirit  to  allow  you  to  be  dragged  into  a  contro- 
versy, you  see ;  and  as  they  don't  get  on  very  well  together, 
I  suppose  he  is  glad  to  get  off  a  few  days  to  Inverness." 

"Ah,  I  understand,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  That  is  some- 
thing to  know.  But  why  did  he  not  tell  me  ?  Does  he 
think  I  am  afraid  of  a  little  trouble  like  that?  Does  he 
think  I  should  be  frightened  ?  Oh  no.  When  I  make  a 


240  YOLANDE, 

promise,  it  is  not  to  break  it.  He  should  have  trusted  me 
more  than  that.  Ah,  I  am  sorry  he  has  to  go  away  OH 
ray  account.  Why  did  he  not  speak  ?  It  is  strange." 

And  then  she  regarded  him  with  those  clear,  beautiful, 
contemplative  eyes  of  hers. 

"  Have  you  told  me  everything  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  No.  There  is  more.  There  is  more  to  account  for 
my  papa's  trouble — for  his  going  away  this  morning.  And 
why  do  I  come  to  you  ? — because  I  know  that  what  you 
know  you  will  tell  to  mo.  You  have  been  my  friend  since 
ever  we  came  to  this  place." 

He  could  not  withstand  her  appeal ;  and  yet  he  dared 
not  reveal  a  secret  which  was  not  his  own. 

"  Yolande,"  said  he,  and  he  took  her  hand  to  emphasize 
his  words,  "  there  is  more;  but  it  is  not  I  who  must  tell 
you.  What  I  can  tell  you,  and  what  I  hope  you  will  be- 
lieve, is  that  you  are  in  no  way  the  cause  of  anything  that 
may  have  happened.  You  have  nothing  to  reproach  your- 
self with.  And  any  little  trouble  there  may  be  will  be  re- 
moved in  time,  no  doubt.  When  you  have  done  your  best, 
what  more  can  you  do  ?  '  The  rest  is  with  the  gods.' " 

It  is  just  possible  that  she  might  have  begged  him  to 
make  a  candid  confession  of  all  that  he  knew — for  she  had 
a  vague  fear  that  she  herself  was  the  cause  of  that  anxiety 
which  she  saw  too  visibly  in  her  father's  looks  — but  at  this 
moment  the  dog-cart  drove  up  to  the  front  gate,  and  she 
had  to  go.  She  bade  him,  and  also  Mrs.  Bell,  good-by  al- 
most in  silence  ;  she  went  away  thoughtfully.  And  as  he 
watched  her  disappear  along  the  high-road — the  warm 
westering  light  touching  the  red  gold  of  her  hair — he  was 
thoughtful  too  ;  and  his  heart  yearned  toward  her  with  a 
great  pity  ;  and  there  was  not  much  that  this  man  would 
not  have  done  to  save  her  from  the  shadow  that  was  about 
to  fall  on  her  young  life. 


YOLANDE.  241 


CHAPTER    XXX. 
"DARE  ALL." 

HE  could  not  rest,  somehow.  He  we/it  into  the  labora- 
tory and  looked  vacantly  around  ;  the  objects  there  seemed 
to  have  no  interest  for  him.  Then  he  went  back  to  the 
house — into  the  room  where  he  had  found  her  standing ; 
and  that  had  more  of  a  charm  for  him  :  the  atmosphere 
still  seemed  to  bear  the  perfume  of  her  presence,  the  music 
of  her  voice  still  seemed  to  hang  in  the  air.  She  had  left 
on  the  table — she  had  forgotten,  indeed — a  couple  of  boards 
enclosing  two  specimens  of  the  Alehemilla.  These  he 
turned  over,  regarding  with  some  attention  the  pretty, 
quaint  French  handwriting  at  the  foot  of  the  page : 
"  Alckemitta  alpina.  Alpine  Lady 's-niantle.  Alltrnam-Ba, 
September,  188-."  But  still  his  mind  was  absent ;  he  was 
following  in  imagination  the  girl  herself,  going  away  along 
the  road  there,  alone,  to  meet  the  revelation  that  was  to 
alter  her  life. 

And  was  he  to  stand  by  idle  ?  "Was  he  going  to  limit 
himself  to  the  part  he  had  been  asked  to  play — that  of 
mere  message-bearer  ?  Could  he  not  do  something  ?  Was 
he  to  be  dominated  by  the  coward  fear  of  being  called  an 
intermeddler  ?  He  had  not  pondered  over  all  this  matter 
(with  a  far  deeper  interest  than  he  himself  imagined)  with- 
out result.  He  had  his  own  views,  his  own  remedy ;  he 
knew  what  counsel  he  would  give,  if  he  dared  intervene. 
And  why  should  he  not  dare  ?  He  thought  of  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face  as  she  had  said,  with  averted  eyes,  "  Good- 
by ! "  and  then,  why,  then,  a  sudden  impulse  seized  him 
that  somehow  and  at  once  he  must  get  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  and 
that  before  she  should  meet  her  father. 

He  snatched  up  his  hat  and  went  quickly  out  and 
through  the  little  front  garden  into  the  road ;  there  he 
paused.  Of  course  he  could  not  follow  her ;  she  must  needs 
see  him  corning  up  the  wide  strath  ;  and  in  that  case  what 
excuse  could  he  give?  But  what  if  the  shooting  party 
had  not  yet  come  down  from  the  hill?  Might  he  not  in- 
tercept them  somewhere  ?  Sometimes,  when  they  had  b*>  -n 


•2 12  YOLANDE. 

taking  the  far  tops  in  search  of  a  ptarmigan  or  two,  they 
came  home  late — to  be  scolded  by  the  young  house-mistress 
for  keeping  dinner  back.  Well,  the  result  of  these  rapid 
calculations  was  that  the  next  minute  he  had  set  out  to 
climb,  with  a  swiftness  that  was  yet  far  too  slow  for  the 
eagerness  of  his  wishes,  the  steep  and  rough  and  rugged 
hills  that  stretch  away  up  to  the  neighborhood  of  Lynn 
forest. 

First  it  was  over  peat  bog  and  rock,  then  through  a 
tangled  undergrowth  of  young  birches,  then  up  through 
some  precipitous  gullies,  until  at  last  he  had  gained  the 
top,  and  looked  abroad  over  the  forest — that  wide,desolate, 
silent  wilderness.  Not  a  creature  stirred,  not  even  the 
chirp  of  a  chaffinch  broke  the  oppressive  stillness ;  it 
seemed  a  world  of  death.  But  he  had  no  time  to  take 
note  of  such  matters  ;  besides,  the  solitude  of  a  deer  forest 
was  familiar  to  him.  He  held  along  by  the  hilltop,  some- 
times having  to  descend  into  sharp  little  gullies  and  clamber 
up  again,  until,  far  below  him,  he  came  in  sight  of  Lynn 
Towers  and  the  bridge,  and  the  stream,  and  the  loch ;  and 
onward  still  he  kept  his  way,  until  the  strath  came  in  view, 
with  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  a  pale  blue  smoke  rising  from  the 
chimneys  into  the  still  evening  air.  Probably  Yolande  had 
got  home  by  that  time  ;  perhaps  she  might  be  out  and  walk- 
ing round  the  place,  talking  to  the  dogs  in  the  kennel,  and  so 
forth.  So  he  kept  rather  back  from  the  edge  of  the  hill- 
top, so  that  he  should  not  be  descried,  and  in  due  time  ar- 
rived at  a  point  overlooking  the  junction  of  three  glens, 
down  one  of  which  the  shooting  people,  if  they  had  not 
already  reached  the  lodge,  were  almost  certain  to  come. 

He  looked  and  waited  however,  in  vain,  and  he  was  com- 
ing to  the  conclusion  that  they  must  have  already  passed 
and  gone  on  to  the  lodge,  when  he  fancied  he  saw  some- 
tiling  move  behind  some  birch  bushes  on  the  hillside 
beyond  the  glen.  Presently  he  made  out  what  it  was — a 
pony  grazing,  and  gradually  corning  more  and  more  into 
view.  Then  he  reflected  that  the  pony  could  only  be  there 
for  one  purpose  ;  that  probably  the  attendant  gillie  and  the 
panniers  were  hidden  from  sight  behind  those  birches; 
and  that,  if  it  were  so,  the  shooting  party  had  not  returned, 
and  were  bound  to  come  back  that  way.  A  very  few 
minutes  of  further  waiting  proved  his  conjecture  to  be 
right,  a  scattered  group  of  people,  with  dogs  in  to  heel,  ap- 
pearing on  the  crest  of  the  hill  opposite.  Then  he  had  no 


YOLANDE.  248 

further  doubt.  Down  this  slope  he  went  at  headlong  speed, 
crossed  the  nisi) ing  burn  by  springing  from  boulder  to 
boulder,  scrambled  up  through  the  thick  brushwood  and 
heather  of  the  opposite  banks,  and  very  soon  encountered 
the  returning  party,  who  were  now  watching  the  panniers 
being  put  on  the  pony's  back. 

Now  that  he  had  intercepted  Mr  Winterbourne,  there 
was  no  need  for  hurry.  lie  could  take  time  to  recover  hia 
breath,  and  also  to  bethink  himself  as  to  how  he  should 
approach  this  difficult  matter ;  and  then,  again,  he  did  not 
wish  those  people  to  imagine  that  he  had  come  on  any 
important  errand.  And  so  the  conversation,  as  the  pony 
was  being  loaded,  was  all  about  the  day's  sport.  They 
had  done  very  well,  it  appeared  ;  the  birds  had  not  yet  got 
wild,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  packing ;  they  had  got  a 
couple  of  teal  and  a  golden  plover,  which  was  something  of 
a  variety  ;  also  they  had  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a 
large  eagle — which  Duncan  declared  to  be  a  Golden  Eagle — 
at  unusually  close  quarters. 

Then  they  set  out  for  home ;  Duncan  and  the  gillies 
making  away  for  a  sort  of  ford  by  which  they  could  get 
the  pony  across  the  Dun  Water,  while  the  three  others 
took  a  nearer  way  to  the  lodge  by  getting  down  through  a 
gully  to  the  Corrie-an-eich,  where  there  was  a  swing-bridge 
across  the  burn.  When  they  had  got  to  the  bridge,  Mel- 
ville stopped  him. 

"  I  am  not  going  on  with  you  to  the  lodge,"  said  he. 
"  Mr  Wintebourne,  I  have  seen  your  daughter  this  after- 
noon. She  is  troubled  and  anxious  ;  and  I  thought  I'd 
come  along  and  have  a  word  with  you.  I  hope  you  will 
forgive  me  for  thrusting  myself  in  where  I  may  not  be  wanted 
but — but  it  is  not  always  the  right  thing  to  "pass  by  on 
the  other  side."  I  couldn't  in  this  case." 

"  I  am  sure  we  are  most  thankful  to  you  for  what  you 
have  done  already,"  Yolande's  father  said,  promptly  ;  and 
then  he  added,  with  a  weary  look  in  his  face,"  "and  what  is 
to  be  done  now  I  don't  know.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do 
this  that  Leslie  demands.  It  is  too  terrible.  I  look  at  the 
girl — well,  it  does  not  bear  speaking  of." 

'•'  Look  here, Winterbourne,"  John  Shortlands  said,  "  I 
am  going  to  leave  you  two  together.  I  will  wait  for  you 
on  the  other  side.  But  I  would  advise  you  to  listen  well 
to  anything  that  Mr  Melville  has  to  say  ;  I  have  my  own 
luess." 


244  YOLANDE. 

"What  I  want  to  know,  first  of  all,"  Mr  Winterbourne 
said,  with  a  kind  of  despair  in  his  voice,  "  is  whether  you 
are  certain  that  the  Master  will  insist  ?  Why  should  he  ? 
How  could  it  matter  to  him  ?  I  thought  we  had  done  every- 
thing when  we  let  him  know.  Why  should  Yolande  know? 
Why  make  her  miserable  to  no  end  ?  Look  what  has  been 
done  to  keep  this  knowledge  from  her  all  through  these 
years  ;  and  you  can  see  the  result  in  the  gayety  of  her 
heart.  Would  she  have  been  like  that  if  she  had  known — • 
if  she  had  always  been  thinking  of  one  who  ought  to  be  near 
her,  and  perhaps  blaming  herself  for  holding  aloof  from 
her  ?  She  would  have  been  qnite  different ;  she  would  have 
been  old  in  sadness  by  this  time  ;  whereas  she  has  never; 
known  what  a  care  was.  Mr.  Melville,  you  are  his  friend 
you  know  him  better  than  any  of  us.  Don't  you  think  there 
is  some  chance  of  reasoning  with  him,  and  inducing  him  to 
forego  this  demand  ?  It  seems  so  hard." 

The  suffering  that  this  man  was  undergoing  was  terrible. 
His  question  formed  almost  a  cry  of  entreaty,  and  Jack 
Melville  could  scarcely  bring  himself  to  answer  in  what  he 
well  knew  to  be  the  truth. 

"  I  cannot  deceive  you,"  he  said,  after  a  second. 
"  There  is  no  doubt  that  Leslie's  mind  is  made  up  on  the 
point.  When  I  undertook  to  carry  his  message,  he  more 
than  once  repeated  his  clear  decision — " 

"  But  why  ?  What  end  will  it  serve  ?  How  could  it 
matter  to  them — living  away  from  London?  How  could 
they  be  harmed  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Winterbourne,"  said  the  other,  with  something  of  a 
clear  emphasis,  "when  I  reported  Leslie's  decision  to  Mr. 
Shortlands,  as  I  was  asked  to  do,  I  refused  to  defend  it — or  to 
attack  it,  for  that  matter — and  I  would  rather  not  do  so  now. 
What  I  might  think  right  in  the  same  case,  what  you 
might  think  right,  does  not  much  matter.  I  told  Mr.  Short- 
hinds  that  perhaps  we  did  not  kuow  everything  that  might 
lead  to  such  a  decision  ;  Leslie  has  not  been  on  good  terms 
with  his  father  and  aunt,  and  he  thinks  he  is  being  badly 
used.  There  may  be  other  things  ;  I  do  not  know." 

"  And  how  do  we  know  that  it  will  suffice  ?  "  the  other 
said.  "  How  do  we  know  that  it  will  satisfy  him  and  his 
people  ?  Are  we  to  inflict  all  this  pain  and  sorrow  on  the 
girl,  and  then  wait  to  see  whether  that  is  enough?  " 

"It  is  not  what  I  would  do,"  said  Jack  Melville,  who 
had  not  come  here  for  nothing. 


YOLANDE.  246 

"  What  would  you  do,  then  ?  Can  you  suggest  any. 
tbing?  "  her  father  said,  eagerly.  "  Ah,  you  little  know 
how  we  should  value  any  one  who  could  remove  this  thing 
from  us  !" 

"  What  I  would  do  ?  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  I  would  go 
to  that  girl,  and  I  would  see  how  much  of  the  woman  is  in 
her  ;  I  think  you  will  find  enough  ;  I  would  say  to  her, 
"  There  is  your  mother  ;  that  is  the  condition  she  has  sunk 
into  through  those  accursed  drugs.  Every  means  has 
been  tried  to  save  her  without  avail — every  means  save 
one.  It  is  for  you  to  go  to  her — you  yourself — alone.  Who 
knows  what  resurrection  of  will  and  purpose  may  notarise 
within  her  when  it  is  her  own  daughter  who  stands  before 
her  and  appeals  to  her — when  it  is  her  own  daughter  who 
will  be  by  her  side  during  the  long  struggle  ?  That  is 
your  duty  as  a  daughter  :  will  you  do  it?"  If  I  know  the 
girl,  you  will  not  have  to  say  more." 

The  wretched  man  opposite  seemed  almost  to  recoil 
from  him  in  his  dismay.  "  Good  God  !"  he  muttered,  and 
there  was  a  sort  of  blank,  vague  terror  in  his  face,  Melville 
stood  silent  and  calm,  awaiting  an  answer. 

"  It  is  the  suggestion  of  a  devil,"  said  this  man,  who 
was  quite  aghast,  and  seemed  scarcely  to  comprehend  the 
whole  thing  just  yet,  "  or  else  of  an  angel ;  why — " 

"  It  is  the  suggestion  neither  of  a  devil  nor  an  angel," 
said  Melville,  calmly,  "  but  of  a  man  who  has  read  a  few 
medical  books." 

The  other,  with  the  half  horror-stricken  look  in  his  eyes, 
seemed  to  be  thinking  hard  of  all  that  might  happen  ;  and 
his  two  hands  clasped  together  over  the  muzzle  of  his  gun, 
which  was  resting  on  the  ground,  were  trembling. 

"  Oh,  it  is  impossible — impossible  I"  he  cried  at  length 
"It  is  inhuman.  You  have  not  thought  of  it  sufficiently. 
My  girl  to  go  through  that  ! — have  you  considered  what 
you  are  proposing  to  subject  her  to?" 

"  I  have  considered,"  Jack  Melville  said  (perhaps  with  a 
passing  qualm ;  for  there  was  a  pathetic  cry  in  this  man's 
voice).  "And  I  have  thought  of  it  sufficiently,  I  hope.  I 
would  not  have  dared  to  make  the  suggestion  without  the 
most  anxious  consideration." 

"  And  you  would  subject  Yolande  to  that  f  " 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  "I  would  not.  I  would  not  sub- 
ject her  to  anything ;  I  would  put  the  case  before  her,  and  1 
know  what  her  own  answer  would  be.  I  don't  think  any 


246  YOLAKDE. 

one  would  have  to  use  prayers  and  entreaties.  I  don't 
think  it  would  be  necessary  to  try  much  persuasion.  I  say 
this — put  the  case  before  her,  and  I  will  stake  ray  head  I 
can  tell  what  her  answer  will  be — what  her  decision  will 
he — yes,  and  before  you  have  finished  your  story !" 

"  And  to  go  alone — " 
.     "  She  will  not  be  afraid." 

He  seemed  to  have  a  very  profound  conviction  of  his 
knowledge  of  this  girl's  nature  ;  and  there  was  a  kind  of 
pride  in  the  way  he  spoke. 

"  But  why  alone  ?  "  pleaded  the  father — he  seemed  to 
be  imagining  all  kinds  of  things  with  those  haggard  eyes. 

"  I  would  not  have  the  mental  shock  lessened  by  the 
presence  of  any  one.  I  would  have  no  possible  suspicion 
of  a  trap,  a  bait,  a  temptation.  I  would  have  it  between 
these  two  :  the  daughter's  appeal  to  her  mother.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  the  result." 

"  She  could  not.  My  girl  to  go  away  by  herself! — she 
could  not ;  it  is  too  terrible." 

"  Try  her." 

"  She  has  never  travelled  alone.  Why,  even  to  go  to 
London  by  herself — " 

"  Oh,  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  That  is  not 
what  I  mean  at  all.  As  for  that,  her  maid  would  go  with 
her  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  Mr.  Shortlands  might  see  her 
as  far  as  London  if  he  is  going  south  shortly,  as  I  hear. 
She  could  put  up  at  one  or  other  of  the  hotels  that  she  has 
already  stayed  at  with  you.  Then  you  would  give  her  the 
address  and  leave  the  rest  to  her?' 

"  You  have  been  thinking  over  this,  Mr.  Winterbourne 
said.  "  I  have  not.  I  am  rather  bewildered  about  it." 
Shall  we  ask  Shortlands  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish.  But  first  let  me  explain,  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne.  As  1  understand,  several  arrangements  have  been 
made  with  this  poor  woman — only,  unhappily,  to  be  broken 
by  her.  Well,  now,  why  I  want  Yolande  to  go  alone — if 
you  think  the  experiment  should  be  tried  at  all — is  to 
prevent  suspicion  in  the  poor  woman's  mind.  I  would  have 
no  third  person.  It  should  be  a  matter  between  the  two 
women  themselves  :  and  Yolande  must  insist  on  seeing  her 
mother  alone." 

"  Insist !  Yes,  and  insist  with  two  such  wretches  as 
those  Itomfords!  Why,  the  man  might  insult  her;  he 
might  lay  hands  on  her,  and  force  her  out  of  the  house." 


YOLANDE.  247 

Melville's  pale,  chirk  face  grew  dark  at  this,  and  his  eyes 
had  a  sudden,  sharp  fire  in  them. 

"  She  must  have  a  policeman  waiting  outside,"  he  said, 
curtly.  "  And  her  maid  must  go  inside  with  her,  but  not 
necessarily  into  the  room." 

"  And  then,  "  said  Mr.  Winterbourne,  who  was  appar- 
ently picturing  all  this  before  his  mind  ;  "  supposing  she 
were  to  get  her  mother  away  with  her,  what  then  ?  " 

"  She  would  take  her  back  to  the  hotel.  She  must  have 
a  private  sitting-room,  of  course.  Then,  in  two  or  three 
days'  time,  when  she  had  got  the  necessary  travelling  things 
for  her  mother,  she  would  take  her  down  to  some  quiet  sea- 
side place — Eastbourne,  or  Bournemouth,  or  some  such 
place — and  get  rooms  there.  The  two  women  would  get  to 
know  each  other  that  way  ;  Yolande  would  aways  be  with 
her  ;  her  constant  society  would  be  her  mother's  safeguard." 

"  You  have  thought  of  everything — you  have  thought  of 
everything,"  the  father  murmured.  "  Well,  let  us  see  what 
Short  lands  says.  It  is  a  terrible  risk.  I  am  not  hopeful 
myself.  The  tiling  is,  is  it  fair  to  bring  all  this  distress  and 
suffering  on  the  girl  on  such  a  remote  chance?  " 

"  You  must  judge  of  that,"  said  Melville.  "  You  asked 
me  what  I  would  do.  I  have  told  you." 

Mr.  Winterbourne  was  about  to  step  on  to  the  bridge, 
across  which  only  one  could  go  at  a  time  ;  but  he  suddenly 
turned  back,  and  said,  with  some  earnest  emphasis,  to  the 
younger  man  : 

"  Do  not  imagine  that  because  I  hesitate  I  think  any  the 
less  of  your  thoughtfulness.  Not  many  would  have  done  as 
much.  Whatever  happens,  I  know  what  your  intentions 
were  towards  us."  He  took  Melville's  hand  for  a  moment, 
and  pressed  it.  "  And  I  thank  you  for  her  sake  and  for  rny 
own.  May  God  bless  you  !  " 

When  they  got  to  the  other  side  they  found  John  Short- 
lands  seated  on  a  boulder  of  granite,  smoking  a  cigar.  He 
was  not  much  startled  by  this  proposal,  for  Melville  had 
mentioned  something  of  the  kind  to  him,  in  an  interjectional 
sort  of  fashion,  some  time  before,  and  he  had  given  it  a  brief 
but  rather  unfavorable  consideration.  Now,  as  they  talked 
the  matter  over,  it  appeared  that  he  stood  about  midway  be- 
tween these  two,  having  neither  the  eager  enthusiasm  of  Jack 
Melville  nor  yet  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his  friend  Winter- 
bourne. 

"  If  you  think  it  is.  worth  trying,  try  it,"  said  he,  coolly, 


248  YOLANDE. 

u  It  can't  do  much  harm.  If  Yolande  is  to  know,  she  may 
as  well  know  to  some  end.  Other  things  have  been  tried, 
and  failed  ;  this  might  not.  The  shock  might  bring  her  to 
her  senses.  Anyhow,  don't  you  see,  if  you  once  tell  Yo- 
lande all  about  it,  I  rather  fancy  she  will  be  dissatisfied 
until  she  has  made  a  trial." 

"  That  is  what  I  am  certain  of,  "  Melville  said,  quickly. 
"  I  would  contentedly  leave  it  to  herself.  Only  the  girl  must 
have  some  guidance.  " 

"  Surely,  surely,"  said  John  Shorthands.  "  I  consider 
your  plan  very  carefully  laid  out — if  Winterbourne  will  risk 
it.  The  only  other  way  is  to  leave  Yolande  in  her  present 
happy  ignorance,  and  tell  the  Master  of  Lynn,  and  his 
father,  and  his  aunt,  and  whatever  other  relations  he  has, 
to  go  to  the  devil." 

"  Shorthands,"  said  Mr.  Winterbourne,  angrily,  "  this  is 
a  serious  thing;  it  is  not  to  be  settled  in  your  free  and  easy 
way.  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  mind  bringing  on  Yolande 
the  mortification  of  being  jilted  ?  How  could  you  explain 
to  her  ?  She  would  be  left — without  a  word.  And  I  fear 
she  is  beginning  to  be  anxious  already.  Poor  child,  which- 
ever way  it  goes,  she  will  have  enough  to  suffer." 

"  I  should  not  mind  so  much  which  way  it  goes,  "  said 
John  Shorthands,  bluntly,  "  if  only  somebody  would  take 
the  Master  of  Lynn  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  and  oblige 
me  by  kicking  him  from  Allt-nam-Ba  bridge  to  Foyers  pier." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Melville  (though  he  was  by  much 
the  youngest  of  these  three),"  the  less  said  in  that  way 
the  better.  What  you  want  is  to  make  the  best  of  things, 
not  to  stir  up  ill-will.  For  my  part  I  regard  Miss  Winter- 
bourne's  engagement  to  Mr.  Leslie  as  a  secondary  matter 
— at  this  present  moment  I  consider  her  first  duty  is  to 
her  mother ;  and  I  am  pretty  sure  you  will  find  that  will  be 
her  opinion  when  you  put  the  facts  of  the  case  before  her. 
Yes  ;  I  am  pretty  certain  of  that." 

"  And  who  would  undertake  to  tell  her?"  her  father 
said,  "  who  could  face  the  suffering,  the  shame,  you  would 
see  in  her  eyes?  Who  would  dare  to  suggest  to  her  that  she, 
BO  tenderly  cared  for  all  her  life,  should  go  away  and  en- 
counter these  horrors  ?  " 

There  was  silence. 

"  If  it  comes  to  that, "  said  Melville,  slowly,  "  I  will  do 
it.  If  you  think  it  right — if  it  will  give  you  pain  to  speak  to 
her — let  me  speak  to  her." 


YOLANDE.  249 

"You  ?  "  said  her  father.  "  Why  should  you  undertake 
what  cannot  but  be  a  dreadful  task?  Why  should  you  havo 
to  bear  that?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  my  share  in  the  common  trouble 
would  be  slight.  Besides,  I  have  not  many  friends ;  and 
when  one  lias  the  chance  of  lending  a  hand,  don't  you  un- 
derstand, it  is  a  kind  of  gratification.  I  know  it  will  not 
be  pleasant,  except  for  one  thing-I  am  looking  forward  to 
her  answer;  and  I  know  what  it  will  be.  " 

"  But,  really,"  her  father  said,  with  some  hesitation,  "  is 
it  fair  we  should  put  this  on  you  ?  It  is  a  great  sacrifice  to 
ask  from  one  who  has  been  so  recently  our  friend.  You 
have  seen  her— you  have  seen  how  light-hearted  she  is ;  and 
to  ask  any  one  to  go  and  take  away  the  happy  carelessness 
of  her  life  from  her — " 

"  Yes,  it  will  make  a  change,  "  said  Melville,  thought- 
fully. "  I  know  that.  She  will  be  no  longer  a  girl.  She 
will  be  a  woman.  " 

"  At  all  events,  Winterbourne,  "  John  Shortlandg 
broke  in,  "  what  I  said  before,  I  say  now — you  are  the  last. 
man  to  undertake  such  a  job.  You'd  frighten  the  girl  out 
of  her  senses.  It's  bad  enough  as  it  is;  and  it'll  have  to  be 
told  her  by  degrees.  I  would  have  a  try  myself,  but  I  might 
say  something  about  the  cause  of  her  'having  to  be  told, 
and  that  would  only  make  mischief.  If  I  said  anything 
about  your  friend  Leslie,  Mr.  Melville,  I  ask  you  to  forget 
it.  No  use  making  rows.  And  I  say,  if  Winterbourne  de- 
cides on  taking  your  way  out  of  this  troublous  business, 
and  if  you  don't  mind  doing  what  you  offered  to  do,  you 
could  not  find  a  better  time  than  next  Tuesday,  if  that  will 
be  convenient  for  you,  for  we  shall  be  all  away  at  the  far 
tops  that  day,  and  I  daresay,  it  will  take  you  sometime  to 
break  the  news  gently." 

u  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  either  on  Tuesday  or  any 
other  day,  whenever  you  let  me  know  what  you  have  de- 
cided." 

He  would  not  go  on  to  the  house  with  them,  despite  all 
their  solicitations  ;  on  the  other  hand,  he  begged  them  not 
to  say  to  Yolande  that  they  had  seen  him.  So  they  went 
on  their  way  down  to  the  little  lodge  and  its  dependencies, 
while  he  went  back  and  over  the  hills. 

"  He's  a fine  fellow  that,  and  no  mistake,  "  said  the 

plain  spoken  John  Shortlauds.     "  There  is  a  sort  of   broad 


250  YOLANDE. 

human  nature  about   him.     And  I  should   think,  Winter- 
bourne,  you  were  very  much  obliged  to  him." 

"  Obliged  ?  "  said  Yolande's  father.     "  It  is  scarcely  the 
word. " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CONTRITION. 

MRS.  GRAHAM,  attended  by  her  maid,  and  dressed  in  one 
of  the  most  striking  of  her  costumes,  was  slowly  pacing  up 
and  down  the  loud-echoing  railway  station  at  Inverness. 
This  was  what  her  brother  used  spitefully  to  call  her  plat- 
form parade  ;  but  on  this  occasion,  at  all  events,  she  had  no 
concern  about  what  effect,  if  any,  her  undoubtedly  distin- 
guished appearance  might  produce.  She  was  obviously 
deeply  preoccupied.  Several  times  she  stopped  at  the  book- 
stall, and  absently  glanced  at  the  titles  of  the  various  jour- 
nals ;  and,  indeed,  when  at  length  she  purchased  one  or  two 
papers,  she  forgot  to  take  up  the  change,  and  had  to  be 
called  back  by  the  pretty  young  lady  behind  the  counter. 
Then  she  glanced  at  the  clock,  handed  the  newspapers  to 
her  maid  and  bade  her  wait  there  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
forwith  entered  the  Station  Hotel. 

She  passed  along  the  corridor,  and  went  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. From  that  room  she  had  a  full  view  of  the 
general  reading-room,  which  forms  the  centre  of  the  build- 
ing, and  is  lit  from  the  roof;  and  the  first  glance  showed 
her  the  person  of  whom  she  was  in  search.  The  Master  of 
Lynn,  the  sole  occupant  of  the  place,  was  lying  back  in  a 
c:me-bottomed  rocking-chair,  turning  over  the  pages  of 
Punch. 

"  So  I  have  found  you  at  last.  What  are  you  doing 
here  '?  "  she  said,  rather  sharply. 

He  looked  up.  "  I  might  ask  the  same  question  of 
you,"  he  answered,  with  much  coolness. 

"  You  know  well  enough.     It  is  not  for  nothing  I  have 
come  all  the  way  from  Investroy." 

"  You  must  have  got  up  early,"  he  remarked. 

•'  I  want  to  krow  what  you  are  doing  here," 


YOLANDE.  2ol 

"  I  am  reading  Punch" 

44  Yes,"  said  she,  with  some  bitterness,  "  and  I  suppose 
yowr  cliief  occupation  is  playing  billiards  all  day  long  with 
coininerical  travellers." 

"  One  might  be  worse  employed." 

44  Archie,  let  us  have  none  of  this  nonsense.  What  do 
you  mean  to  do  ?  Why  don't  you  answer  my  letters  ?  " 

44  Because  you  make  too  much  of  a  fuss.  Because  you 
are  too  portentous.  Now  I  like  a  quiet  life.  That  is  why 
I  am  here ;  I  came  here  to  have  a  little  peace." 

"  Well,  I  don't  understand  you  at  all,"  his  sister  said,  in 
a  hopeless  kind  of  way.  "  I  could  understand  it  better  if 
you  were  one  of  those  young  men  who  are  attracted  by 
every  pretty  face  they  see,  and  are  always  in  a  simmering 
condition  of  love-making.  But  you  are  not  like  that. 
And  I  thought  you  were  proud  to  think  of  Yolande  as  your 
future  wife.  I  can  remember  one  day  on  board  the  daha- 
beeyah.  You  were  anxious  enough  then.  What  has 
changed  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  lam  changed,"  said  he,  either  with 
indifference  or  an  affectation  of  indifference. 

"  Is  Shena  Van  in  Inverness  ? "  said  Mrs.  Graham, 
sharply. 

"  I  suppose  Miss  Stewart  has  as  good  a  right  to  be  in 
Inverness  as  anybody  else,"  he  said,  formally. 

44  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  know  whether  she  is  in 
Inverness  or  not?  " 

44 1  did  not  say  nothing  of  the  kind." 

44  Have  you  spoken  to  her  ?  " 

"Don't  keep  on  bothering,"  he  said,  impatiently. 
"  Miss  Stewart  is  in  Inverness  ;  and  if  you  want  to  know, 
I  have  not  spoken  a  single  word  to  her.  Is  that  enough  ?  " 

44  Why  are  you  here,  then  ?  What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

44  Nothing." 

44  Really  this  is  too  bad,  Archie,"  his  sister  said,  in  deep 
vexation.  44  You  are  throwing  away  the  best  prospects  a 
young  man  ever  had,  and  all  for  what  ?  For  temper !  " 

"I  don't  call  it  temper  at  all,"  said  he;  "I  call  it  self- 
respect.  I  have  told  you  already  that  I  would  not  degrade 
Yolande  Winterbourne  so  far  as  to  plead  for  her  being  re- 
ceived by  my  family.  A  pretty  idea  !  " 

<4  There  would  have  been  no  necessity  to  plead  if  only 
you  had  exercised  a  little  patience  and  tact  and  judgment. 


252  YOLANDE. 

And  surely  it  is  not  too  late  jet.  Just  think  how  much 
pleasanter  it  would  be  for  you  and  for  all  of  us  in  the  future 
if  you  were  rather  more  on  an  equal  footing  with  Jim — I 
mean  as  regards  money.  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't 
have  your  clothes  made  at  Poole's,  as  Jirn  has.  Why. 
shouldn't  you  have  chamois-leather  pockets  in  your  over- 
coat as  well  as  he  ?  " 

**  I  can  do  without  chamois-leather  pockets,"  he  ans- 
wered. 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  suddenly  changing  the  mode  of 
her  attack ;  "  but  what  you  cannot  do  without  is  the  repu- 
tation of  having  acted  as  a  gentleman.  You  are  bound  in 
honor  to  keep  faith  with  Yolande  Winterbourne." 

"  I  am  bound  in  honor  not  to  allow  her  to  subject  her- 
self to  insult,"  he  retorted. 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  nothing  of  the  kind  !  "  his  sister  ex- 
claimed. -'How  can  you  be  so  unreasonable?" 

"  You  don't  know  the  worst  of  it,"  said  he,  gloomily. 
"  I  only  got  to  know  the  other  day.  Yolande's  mother  is 
alive — an  opium  drinker.  Off  her  head  at  times  ;  kicks  up 
rows  in  the  streets;  and  they  are  helpless,  because  they 
have  all  been  in  this  conspiracy  to  keep  it  back  from  Yo- 
lande—" 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  Archie  !  "  his  sister  exclaimed, 
looking  very  grave. 

"  I  do,  though.  And,  you  know,  his  lordship  might  in 
-time  be  got  to  overlook  the  Radical  papa,  but  a  mamma 
who  might  at  any  moment  figure  in  a  police  court — I  think 
not  even  you  could  get  him  to  stand  that." 

"  But,  Archie,  this  is  dreadful !  "  Mrs.  Graham  exclaimed 
again. 

44 1  daresay  it  is.     It  is  the  fact,  however." 

"  And  that  is  why  he  was  so  anxious  to  get  Yolande  away 
from  London,"  she  said, thoughtfully.  "Poor  man,  what  a 
terrible  life  to  lead  !  " 

She  was  silent  for  some  time;  she  was  reading  the  story 
more  clearly  now — his  continual  travelling  with  Yolande, 
his  liking  for  long  voyages,  his  wish  that  the  girl  should  live 
in  the  Highlands  after  her  marriage.  And  perhaps,  also, 
his  warm  and  obvious  opproval  of  that  marriage — she  knew 
that  fathers  with  only  daughters  were  not  always  so  com- 
plaisant. 

Two  or  three  strangers  came  into  the  readicg-room. 


YOLANDE.  258 

"  Archie,"  said  she,  waking  up  from  a  reverie,  "  let  us 
go  out  for  a  stroll.  I  must  think  over  this." 

He  went  and  fetched  his  hat  and  stick ;  and  the  maid 
having  been  directed  to  go  into  the  hotel  and  wait  her  mis- 
tress's return,  the  brother  and  sister  went  outside  and  pro- 
ceeded to  walk  leisurely  through  the  bright  and  cheerful 
little  town  in  the  direction  of  the  harbor. 

"What  is  your  own  view  of  the  matter?"  she  said  at 
length,  and  somewhat  cautiously. 

*'  Oh,  my  position  is  perfectly  clear.  I  can  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  any  such  system  of  secrecy  and  terrorism. 
I  told  Jack  Melville  that  when  he  came  as  a  sort  of  ambas- 
sador. I  said  I  would  on  no  account  whatever  subject  my- 
self to  such  unnecessary  risks  and  anxieties.  My  conten- 
tion was  that,  first  of  all,  the  whole  truth  should  be  told  to 
Yoland  ;  then  if  that  woman  keeps  quiet,  good  and  well ;  if 
not,  we  can  appeal  to  the  law  and  have  her  forcibly  con- 
fined. There  is  nothing  more  simple ;  and  I  daresay  it 
could  be  kept  out  of  the  papers.  But  then,  you  see,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Polly,  there  is  also  the  possibility  that  it  might 
get  into  the  papers  ;  and  if  you  add  on  this  little  possibility 
to  what  his  lordship  already  thinks  about  the  whole  affair, 
you  may  guess  what  use  all  your  beautiful  persuasion  and 
tact  and  conciliation  would  be." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,  slowly,  "  why  papa 
should  know  anything  about  it.  It  does  not  concern  him. 
Many  families  have  ne'er-do-well  or  disreputable  members, 
and  simply  nothing  is  said  about  them,  and  they  are  sup- 
posed not  to  exist.  Friends  of  the  family  ignore  chem ; 
they  are  simply  not  mentioned,  until  in  time  they  are  for- 
gotten altogether ;  it  is  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  I  don't 
see  why  papa  should  be  told  anything  about  it." 

"  Oh,  I  am  for  having  everything  straightforward,"  said 
he.  "  I  don't  wish  to  have  anything  thrown  in  my  teeth 
afterward.  But  the  point  isn't  worth  discussing  in  the 
present  state  of  his  lordship's  temper,  and  it  isn't  likely  to 
be  so  long  as  that  old  cat  is  at  his  elbow.  Well,  now,  that 
is  what  Mr.  Winterbourne  might  fairly  say.  He  might  say 
we  had  no  right  to  object  to  his  having  a  half-maniac  wife 
in  his  family  so  long  as  we  had  an  entirely  maniac  aunt—- 
who is  also  a  cantankerous  old  beast — in  ours." 

"  Archie,  I  must  ask  you  to  be  more  decent  in  your  Ian- 
uage!"  his  sister  said,  angrily.  "Is  that  the  way  the 
young  men  talk  at  Bnlliol  now  ? 


254  YOLAA'DE. 

"  I  guess  it's  the  w;i.y  thay  talk  everywhere  when  they 
happen  to  have  the  luxury  of  having  an  Aunt  Oolquhoun 
as  a  relative." 

"  My  dear  Master,  you  won't  go  very  far  to  put  matters 
straight  if  you  continue  in  that  mood." 

"  Am  I  anxious  to  go  far  to  put  matters  straight  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  be — for  the  sake  of  Miss  Winterbomt.e,rt 
said  his  sister,  stiffly. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  it  is  they  who  ought  to  be — for 
the  sake  of  Lynn." 

Well,  she  saw  there  was  not  much  to  be  done  with  him 
just  then;  and,  indeed,  there  was  something  in  what  he 
had  told  her  that  wanted  thinking  over.  But  in  the  mean 
time  she  was  greatly  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  not  (  as 
she  had  suspected)  resumed  any  kind  of  relations  with  Shena 
Van,  and  she  was  anxious  above  all  things  to  get  him  away 
from  Inverness. 

"  When  are  you  going  back  to  Lynn  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  carelessly. 

"  Now  do  be  sensible,  Archie,  and  go  down  with  me  in 
this  afternoon's  steamer.  All  this  trouble  will  be  removed 
in  good  time,  and  you  need  not  make  the  operation  unneces- 
sarily difficult.  I  am  going  down  to  Fort  Augustus  by  the 
three-o'clock  boat ;  you  can  come  with  me  as  far  as  Foyers." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind,"  he  said.  "  I  have  had  a  little  peace 
and  quiet ;  I  can  afford  to  go  back  to  the  menagerie.  Only 
there  won't  be  anybody  to  meet  me  at  Foyers." 

"  You  can  get  a  dog-cart  from  Mrs.  Elder,"  his  sister 
said.  "  And  if  you  were  very  nice  you  would  take  me  back 
to  your  hotel  now  and  give  me  some  lunch,  for  I  am  fright- 
fully hungry.  Do  you  know  at  what  hour  I  had  to  get  up 
in  order  to  catch  th*e  boat  at  Fort  Augustus?" 

"I  don't  see  why  you  did  it." 

"  No,  perhaps  not.  But  when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am 
you  will  see  with  different  eyes.  You  will  see  what  chances 
you  had  at  this  moment,  that  you  scorn  willing  to  let  slip 
through  your  fingers.  And  why  ? — Because  you  have  not 
enough  patience  to  withstand  a  little  opposition.  But  you 
knew  perfectly  well  when  you  asked  Yoland  Winterbourne 
to  marry  you,  on  board  the  dahabeeynh,  that  papa  might 
very  probably  have  objections,  and  you  took  the  risk ;  n.v^ 
now  when  you  find  there  are  objections  and  oppositiofc  i 
don't  think* it  is  quite  fair  for  you  to  throw  the  whole  thing 
up,  and  leave  the  girl  deserted  and  every  one  disappointed. 


YOLANDE.  255 

And  it  all  depends  on  yourself.  You  have  only  to  be 
patient  and  conciliatory;  when  they  sec  that  you  are  not 
to  be  affected  by  their  opposition  they  will  y,ive  in,  in  time. 
And  as  soon  as  the  people  go  away  from  Inverstroy  I  will 
come  over  and  help  you." 

He  said  nothing.  So  they  went  back  and  had  lunch  at 
the  hotel;  and  in  due  time,  Mrs.  Graham's  maid  acornpany- 
ing,  they  drove  along  to  the  canal,  and  got  on  board  the 
little  steamer.  They  had  a  beautiful  sail  down  Loch  Ness 
on  this  still,  golden  afternoon.  But  perhaps  the  pictu- 
resqueness  of  the  scenery  was  a  trifle  familiar  to  them  ;  in 
fact,  they  regarded  the  noble  loch  mostly  as  an  excellent  high- 
way for  the  easy  transference  of  casks  and  hampers  from 
Inverness,  and  their  chief  impression  of  the  famous  falls  of 
Foyers  was  as  to  the  height  of  the  hill  that  their  horses  had 
to  climb  in  going  and  coming  between  Foyers  and  Lynn. 

As  they  were  slowly  steaming  in  to  Foyer's  pier  pretty 
Mrs.  Graham  said, 

"  I  wonder  if  that  can  be  Yolande  herself  in  that  dog- 
cart? Yes,  it  is;  that  is  her  white  Rubens  hat.  Lucky 
for  you,  Master ;  if  she  gives  you  a  lift,  it  will  save  you 
hiring." 

"I  don't  think,"  said  he,  with  a  faint  touch  of  scorn, 
"that  the  mutual  excess  of  courtesy  which  has  been  inter- 
changed between  Lynn  Towers  and  Allt-nam-Ba  would 
warrant  me  in  accepting  such  a  favor.  But  the  cat  bows 
when  she  and  Yolande  pass.  Oh  yes,  she  does  as  much  as 
that." 

"And  she  will  do  a  little  more  in  time,  if  only  you  are 
reasonable,"  said  his  sister,  who  still  hoped  that  all  would 
be  well. 

Young  Leslie  had  merely  a  hand-bag  with  him.  When  he 
left  the  steamer  he  walked  along  the  pier  by  himself  until 
he  reached  the  road,  and  there  he  found  Yolande  seated  in 
the  dog-cart.  He  went  up  and  shook  hands  with  her  and 
she  seemed  very  pleased  to  see  him. 

"You  are  going  to  Lynn  ?     Shall  I  drive  you  out?" 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  he,  somewhat  stiffly.  "  I  will 
not  trouble  you.  I  can  get  a  trap  at  the  hotel." 

She  looked  surprised,  and  then,  perhaps,  a  trifle  reserved. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  she,  with  calm  politeness.  "  The 
hotel  carriages  have  more  room  than  this  little  one.  Good- 
by." 

Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  no  quarrel 


256  YOLANDE. 

with  her.  She  might  be  the  indirect  cause  of  all  this  trouble 
and  confusion  that  had  befallen  him,  but  she  was  certainly 
not  the  direct  cause.  She  was  in  absolute  ignorance  of  it, 
in  fact.  And  so  he  lingered  for  a  second,  and  then  he  said, 
looking  up, 

"  You  have  no  one  coming  by  the  steamer?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  she  said  ;  but  she  did  not  renew  the  invitation  ; 
indeed,  there  was  just  a  touch  of  coldness  in  her  manner. 

"  If  I  thought  I  should  not  overload  the  dog-cart,"  said 
he,  rather  shamefacedly,  "  I  would  beg  of  you  to  give  me  a 
seat.  I  understand  the  stag's  head  has  come  down  by  this 
steamer.  I  saw  it  at  Macleay's  this  morning." 

"  It  is  that  I  have  come  in  for — that  only,"  she  said. 
"  There  is  plenty  of  room,  if  you  wish." 

So  without  more  ado  he  put  his  hand-bag  into  the  dog- 
cart,  behind,  and  there  also  was  desposited  the  stag's  head 
that  Sandy  was  now  bringing  along  from  the  steamer. 
Then,  when  the  lad  had  gone  to  the  horse's  head,  Yolande 
got  down,  for  she  always  walked  this  steep  hill,  whether 
going  or  coming,  and  of  course  no  men-folk  could  remain 
in  the  vehicle  when  she  was  on  foot.  So  she  and  the 
Master  now  set  out  together. 

"  I  hope  they  have  been  having  good  sport  at  Allt-nam- 
Ba,"  he  said. 

«  Oh  yes." 

It  was  clear  that  his  unaccountable  refusal  of  her  invita- 
tion had  surprised  her,  and  her  manner  was  distinctly 
reserved.  Seeing  that,  he  took  the  more  pains  to  please 
her. 

"  Macleay  has  done  the  stag's  head  very  well,"  said  he 
"  and  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Shortlands  will  be  proud  of  it 
Pity  it  isn't  a  royal ;  but  still  it  is  a  good  head.  It  is 
curious  how  people's  ideas  change  as  they  go  on  preserving 
stag's  heads.  At  first  it  is  everything  they  shoot,  no  matter 
what,  and  every  head  must  be  stuffed.  Then  they  begin  to 
find  that  expensive,  and  they  take  to  boiling  the  heads, 
keeping  only  the  skull  and  the  horns.  Then  they  begin  to 
improve  their  collection  by  weeding  out  the  second  and 
third  rate  heads,  which  they  give  to  their  friends.  And 
then,  in  the  end,  they  are  quite  disappointed  with  anything 
short  of  a  royal.  I  went  in  to  Macleay 's  a  day  or  two  ago 
and  asked  him  to  push  on  with  that  head.  I  thought  Mr. 
Shortlands  would  like  to  see  how  it  looked,  hung  up  in  the 
lodge,  and  I  thought  you  might  like  to  see  it  too." 


YOLANDE.  257 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  she  said. 

"  Has  the  great  hare  drive  come  off?"  lie  asked — and 
surely  he  was  trying  to  be  as  pleasant  as  he  could  be.  "  Oh, 
I  think  you  said  it  was  to  be  to-morrow.  I  should  like  to 
have  gone  with  them ;  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Yolande, 
I  am  a  little  bit  ashamed.  Your  father  has  been  too  kind 
to  me  ;  that  is  the  fact.  Of  course  if  we  had  the  forest  in  o  ir 
own  hands  it  would  not  matter  so  much,  for  your  father 
then  might  have  a  return  invitation  to  go  for  a  day  or  two's 
deer-stalking.  But  with  everything  let,  you  see,  I  am 
helpless  ;  and  your  father's  kindness  to  me  has  been  almost 
enbarrassing.  Then  there  is  another  thing.  My  father 
and  aunt  are  odd  people.  They  live  too  much  in  seclusion  ; 
they  have  got  out  of  the  way  of  entertaining  friends,  be- 
cause, with  the  forest  and  the  shooting  always  let,  they 
could  scarcely  ask  any  one  to  come  and  live  in  such  a  remote 
place.  It  is  a  pity.  Look  at  the  other  families  in  Inverness- 
shire  ;  look  at  Lord  Lovat,  look  at  Lord  Seafield,  look  at 
the  Mackintosh,  and  these ;  they  go  out  into  the  world  ; 
they  don't  box  themselves  up  in  one  place.  But  then  we  are 
poor  folk  ;  that  is  one  reason,  perhaps ;  and  my  father 
has  just  one  mania  in  his  life — to  improve  the  condition  of 
Lynn  ;  and  so  he  has  not  gone  about,  perhaps,  as  others 
might  have  done." 

Now  it  sounded  well  in  her  ears  that  this  young  man 
should  be  inclined  to  make  excuses  for  his  father,  even 
when,  as  she  suspected,  the  domestic  relations  at  the  Tow- 
ers were  somewhat  strained,  and  she  instantly  adopted  a 
more  friendly  tone  toward  him. 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "  what  a  misfortune  yesterday!  The 
red  shepherd  came  running  in  to  say  that  there  were  some 
deer  up  the  glen  of  the  Allt  Crom  ;  and  of  course  everyone 
hurried  away — my  papa  and  Mr.  Shortlands  to  two  of  the 
passes.  What  a  misfortune  !  there  being  no  one  with  the 
beaters.  They  came  upon  them — yes,  a  stair  and  four  hinds 
— quite  calmly  standing  and  nibbling,  and  away — away 
they  went  up  the  hill,  not  going  near  either  of  the  guns. 
Was  it  not  sad  ?" 

"  Not  for  the  deer." 

"  And  my  papa  not  to  have  a  stag's  head  to  take  back 
as  well  as  Mr.  Shortlands!  "  she  said,  in  groat  disappoint- 
ment. 

"Oh,  but  if  you  like  he  shall  have  a  finer  head  to  take 
oack  than  any  he  would  be  likely  to  get  in  a  half  a  dozeu 


258  YOLANDE. 

years  of  those  odd  chances.  I  will  give  him  one  I  shot—- 
with three  horns.  I  have  always  had  a  clear  understanding 
about  that :  anything  I  shoot  is  mine — it  doesn't  belong  to 
the  furniture  of  Lynn  Towers.  And  I  will  give  that  head 
to  your  father,  if  you  like ;  it  is  a  very  remarkable  one,  I 
can  assure  you." 

"  That  is  kind  of  you,"  she  said.  They  were  on  more 
friendly  terms  now;  she  had  forgiven  him. 

When  they  got  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  they  got  into 
the  dog-cart,  and  descended  the  other  side,  and  drove  away 
through  the  wooded  and  rocky  country.  She  seemed 
pleased  to  be  on  better  terms  with  him,  and  he,  on  his  part, 
was  particularly  good-natured  and  friendly.  But  when 
they  drew  near  to  Gress  she  grew  a  little  more  thoughtful. 
She  could  not  quite  discard  those  hints  she  had  received. 
Then  her  father's  anxious  trouble — was  that  mer.ely  caused 
by  the  disagreement  that  had  broken  out  between  the  Mas- 
ter and  his  relatives?  If  that  were  all,  matters  would 
mend,  surely.  She,  at  all  events,  was  willing  to  let  time 
work  his  healing  wonders ;  she  was  in  no  hurry,  and  cer- 
tainly her  pride  was  not  deeply  wounded.  She  rather 
liked  the  Master's  excuses  for  those  old  people  who  lived  so 
much  out  of  the  world.  And  she  was  distinctly  glad  that 
now  there  was  no  suspicion  of  coldness  between  herself  and 
him. 

There  was  no  one  visible  at  Gress,  and  they  drove  on 
without  stopping.  When  they  arrived  at  the  bridge  the 
Master  got  down  to  open  the  swinging  iron-gate,  telling 
Sandy  to  keep  his  seat,  and  it  was  not  worth  his  while  to 
get  up  again. 

"  Now,"  said  Yolande,  brightly,  "  I  hope  you  will 
change  your  mind  and  come  along  to-morrow  morning  to 
Allt-nam-Ba,  and  go  with  the  gentlemen,  after  all.  It  is  to 
be  a  great  affair." 

"  I  will  see  if  I  can  manage  it,"  said  he,  evasively  ;  and 
then  they  bade  each  other  good-by,  and  she  drove  on. 

But  although  they  had  seen  no  one  at  Gress,  Jack  Mel- 
ville had  seen  them.  He  was  far  up  the  hillside,  seated  on 
Borne  bracken  among  the  rocks,  and  his  elbows  were  on  his 
knees,  and  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.  He  had  gone 
away  up  there  to  be  perfectly  alone — to  think  over  all  that 
he  was  to  say  to  Yolande  on  the  next  day.  It  was  a  terri- 
ble task,  and  he  knew  it. 


YOLANDE.  259 


He  saw  them  drive  by,  and  his  heart  had  a  great  pity 
for  this  girl. 

"  The  evening  is  coming  over  the  sky  now,"  he  was 
thinking,  as  he  looked  around,  "  and  she  lias  left  behind  her 
the  last  of  the  light-hearted  days  of  her  life." 


CHAFER  XXXII. 

FABULA   NARRATUR. 

EARLY  next  morning  (for  he  was  anxious  to  get  this 
painful  thing  over)  lie  walked  slowly  and  thoughtfully  up 
to  Allt-nam-Ba.  He  knew  she  was  at  home,  for  the  dog- 
cart had  gone  by  with  only  Sandy  in  it.  Perhaps  she  might 
be  indoors,  working  at  the  microscope  he  had  lent  her,  or 
arranging  her  plants. 

She  had  seen  him  come  up  the  strath ;  she  was  at  the 
door  awaiting  him,  her  face  radiant. 

"  Ah  !  but  why  are  you  so  late  ?  "  s.he  cried.  "  They 
are  all  away,  shepherds  and  gillies  and  all,  two  hours  ago." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  go  with  them.  I  have  come  to  have 
a  chat  with  you,  Yolande,  if  you  will  let  me." 

He  spoke  carelessly,  but  there  was  something  in  his 
look  that  she  noticed  ;  and  when  she  had  preceded  him  into 
the  little  drawing-room,  she  turned  and  regarded  him. 

"What  is  it?  Is  it  serious  ?"  she  said,  scanning  his 
face. 

Well,  he  had  carefully  planned  how  he  would  approach 
the  subject,  but  at  this  moment  all  his  elaborate  designs 
went  clean  away  from  his  brain.  A  far  more  happy  expe- 
dient than  any  he  had  thought  of  had  that  instant  occurred 
to  him.  He  would  tell  her  this  story  as  of  some  one  else. 

"  It  is  serious  in  a  way,"  said  he,  "  for  I  am  troubled 
about  an  unfortunate  plight  that  a  friend  of  mine  is  in. 
Why  should  I  bother  you  about  it  ?  But  still  you  might 
give  me  your  advice." 

"My  advice  ?  "  she  said.  "  If  it  would  be  of  any  service 
to  you,  yes,  yes.  But  how  could  it  be  ?  What  experience 
of  the  world  have  I  had  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  experience  of  the  world  ;  it  is  & 
question  of  human  nature  mostly,"  said  he.  "And  ihi* 


260  YO&ANDE. 

friend  of  mine  is  a  girl  just  about  your  o\*nage.  Ton 
might  tell  me  what  you  would  do  in  the  same  circum- 
stances." 

"  But  I  might  do  something  very  foolish." 

"  I  only  want  to  know  what  you  would  naturally  fee) 
inclined  to  do.  That  is  the  question.  You  could  easily 
tell  me  that ;  atd  I  could  not  find  it  out  for  myself — no, 
not  if  I  were  to  set  all  my  electric  machines  going." 

"  Ah  !  well,  I  will  listen  very  patiently,  if  I  am  to  be 
the  judge,"  said  she.  "  And  I  am  glad  it  is  not  anything 
worse.  I  thought,  when  you  came  in,  it  was  something 
very  serious." 

He  did  not  wish  to  be  too  serious ;  and  indeed  he  man- 
aged to  tell  her  the  whole  story  in  a  fashion  so  plain,  mat- 
ter-of-fact, and  unconcerned  that  she  never  for  an  instant 
dreamed  of  its  referring  to  herself.  Of  course  lie  left  out 
all  details  and  circumstances  that  might  positively  have 
given  her  a  clue,  and  only  described  the  central  situation 
as  between  mother  and  daughter.  And  Yolande  had  a 
great  compassion  for  that  poor  debased  woman,  and  some 
pity,  too,  for  the  girl  who  was  kept  in  ignorance  of  her 
mother  being  alive ;  and  she  sat,  with  her  hands  clasped 
on  her  knees,  regarding  these  two  imaginary  figures,  as  it 
were,  and  too  much  interested  in  them  to  remember  that 
her  counsel  was  being  asked  concerning  them. 

"  Now,  you  see,  Yolande,"  he  continued,  "  it  appears 
that  one  of  the  results  of  using  those  damnable — I  beg  your 
pardon — I  really  beg  your  pardon — I  mean  those — those 
poisonous  drugs  is  that  the  will  entirely  goes.  The  poor 
wretches  have  no  command  over  themselves ;  they  live  in 
a  dream ;  they  will  promise  anything — they  will  make  the 
most  solemn  vows  of  abstinence — and  be  quite  unable  to 
resist  the  temptation.  And  the  law  practically  puts  no 
check  on  the  use  of  these  fiendish  things ;  even  when  the 
public-houses  are  closed,  the  chemist's  shop  is  open.  Now, 
Yolande,  I  have  a  kind  of  theory  or  project  with  regard  to 
that  poor  woman.  I  don't  know  whether  the  doctors 
would  approve  of  it,  but  it  is  a  fancy  I  have :  let  us  sup- 
pose that  that  poor  wretch  of  a  mother  does  not  quite  un- 
derstand that  her  daughter  has  grown  up  to  be  a  woman — 
most  likely  she  still  regards  her  as  a  child  ;  that  is  a  very 
common  thing — at  all  events,  she  is  not  likely  to  know 
anything  ns  to  what  her  daughter  is  like.  And  suppose 
that  this  daughter  were  to  go  to  her  mother  and  declare 


YOLANDE.  261 

herself:  do  you  not  thii.k  that  that  would  be  enough  to 
startle  her  out  of  her  dream  ?  and  do  you  not  think  that  in 
the  bewilderment  of  finding  their  relations  reversed — the 
child,  grown  to  be  a  woman,  assuming  a  kind  of  protection 
and  authority  and  command  over  the  Broken-down  creature 
— she  might  be  got  to  rely  on  that  help,  and  encouraged 
and  strengthened  by  constant  care  and  affection  to  retrieve 
herself?  Don't  you  think  it  is  possible?  To  be  startled 
out  of  that  dream  by  shame  and  horror  ;  then  the  wonder 
of  having  that  beautiful  daughter  for  her  champion  and  pro- 
tectress ;  then  the  continual  reward  of  her  companionship  : 
don't  you  think  it  is  possible  ?  " 

"Oh  yes — oh  yes,  surely  ! "  said  the  girl.  "  Surely  you 
are  right ! " 

"  But  then,  Yolande,  I  am  afraid  you  don't  understand 
what  a  terrible  business  it  will  be.  It  will  demand  the  most 
constant  watchfulness,  for  these  drugs  are  easy  to  get,  and 
people  that  use  them  are  very  cunning.  And  it  will  require 
a  long  time — perhaps  years — before  one  could  be  certain 
that  the  woman  was  saved.  Now  look  at  it  from  the  other 
side.  Might  not  one  say,  '  That  poor  woman's  life  is  gone, 
is  done  for :  why  should  you  destroy  this  other  young  life 
in  trying  to  save  a  wreck  ?  Why  should  you  destroy  one 
happy  human  existence  in  trying  to  rescue  the  mere  rem- 
nant of  another  human  existence,  that  would  be  worthless 
and  useless  even  if  you  succeed  ?  Why  should  not  the  girl 
live  her  own  life  in  peace  and  happiness?' ' 

"  But  that  is  not  what  you  would  say ;  that  is  not  what 
you  think,"  she  said,  confidently.  "And  do  you  ask  what 
the  girl  would  think  ? — for  I  can  tell  you  that.  Oh  yes,  I 
can  tell  you — she  would  despise  any  one  who  offered  her 
such  a  choice  ?  M 

"  But  she  would  be  in  ignorance,  Yolande ;  she  would 
know  nothing  about  it." 

"  She  ought  not  to  be  in  ignorance,  then  !  Why  do  they 
Dot  tell  her  ?  Why  not  ask  herself  what  she  will  do  ?  Ah, 
and  all  this  time  the  poor  woman  left  to  herself — it  was  not 
right — it  was  not  just." 

"  But  she  has  not  been  left  to  herself,  Yolande.  Every- 
thing has  been  tried — everything  but  this.  And  that  is  why 
I  have  come  to  ask  you  what  you  think  a  girl  in  that  posi- 
tion would  naturally  do.  What  would  she  do  if  she  were 
told?" 

"  There  cannot  be  a  doubt,"  she  exclaimed.     "  Oh,  there 


262  YOLANDE. 

cannot  be  a  doubt !  You — I  know  what  your  feeling  is, 
what  your  opinion  is.  And  yet  you  hesitate  ?  Why  ?  Go, 
and  you  will  see  what  her  answer  will  be." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Yolande,"  he  said,  deliberately, 
and  regarding  her  at  the  same  time,  *'  that  you  have  no 
<li>ubt  whatever?  You  say  I  am  to  go  and  ask  this  young 
girl  to  sacrifice  her  life — or  it  may  be  only  a  part,  but  that 
the  best  part,  of  her  life — on  this  chance  of  rescuing  a  poor 
broken-down  creature — " 

"  Her  mother"  said  Yolande. 

"  What  will  she  think  of  me,  I  wonder  ?  "  he  said,  ab- 
sently. 

The  answer  was  decisive  : — 

"  If  she  is  the  girl  that  you  say,  oh,  I  know  how  she  will 
be  grateful  to  you.  She  will  bless  you.  She  will  look  on 
you  as  the  best  and  dearest  of  her  friends,  who  had 
courage  when  the  others  were  afraid,  who  had  faith  in  her." 

"  Yolande,"  said  he,  almost  solemnly,  "  you  have  de- 
cided for  yourself/' 

"  I  ?  "  she  said,  in  amazement. 

"  Your  mother  is  alive." 

She  uttered  a  sharp  cry — of  pain,  it  seemed. 

"  My  mother — my  mother — like  that !  " 

For  a  time  this  agony  of  sharne  and  horror  deprived  her 
of  all  power  of  utterance ;  the  blow  had  fallen  heavily. 
Her  most  cherished  and  beautiful  ideals  lay  broken  at  her 
feet ;  in  their  place  was  this  stern  and  ghastly  picture  that 
he  had  placed  before  her  mental  eyes.  He  had  not  softened 
down  any  of  the  details  ;  it  was  necessary  t&at  she  should 
know  the  truth.  And  she  had  been  so  much  interested  in 
the  story,  as  he  patiently  put  it  before  her,  that  now  she 
had  but  little  difficulty — alas !  she  had  no  difficulty  at  all — 
in  placing  herself  in  the  position  of  that  imaginary  daugh- 
ter, and  realizing  what  she  had  to  face. 

He  waited.  He  had  faith  in  her  courage  ;  but  he  would 
give  her  time.  This  was  a  sudden  thing  to  happen  to  a  girl 
of  nineteen. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  length,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  will  go." 

Her  hands  were  tightly  clinched  together,  but  she 
showed  no  symptona  of  faltering.  Presently  she  said,  in  the 
same  steady,  constrained  way, — 

"  I  will  go  at  once.  Does  papa  know  you  were  coming 
here  to-day  to  tell  rne  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He  could  not  do  it  himself,  Yolande.     H«  hai 


YOLANDE.  '263 

suffered  fearfully  during  these  long  years  in  order  to  hido 
this  from  you  ;  he  thought  it  would  only  pain  you  to  know 
— that  you  could  do  no  good." 

"  What  induced  him  to  change  his  mind  ?  " 

He  was  embarrassed  ;  he  had  not  expected  the  question. 
She  glanced  at  his  face. 

"  Was  that  the  objection  at  Lynn  Towers  ?"  she  aa  id, 
c.ilraly. 

"  No,  Yolandu,  no  ;  it  was  not.  I  daresay  Lord  Lynn 
does  not  quite  approve  of  your  father's  politics  ;  but  that 
has  nothing  to  do  with  you." 

"  Then  it  was  your  idea  that  I  should  be  told  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  he,  uneasily,  "  possibly  your  father  im- 
agined that  Archie  Leslie  might  not  like — might  think  he 
had  been  unfairly  treated  if  he  were  not  told — and  then  I 
was  his  friend,  don't  you  see,  and  they  mentioned  the  mat- 
ter to  me — and — and  being  an  outsider,  I  was  reluctant  to 
interfere  at  first — but  then,  when  they  spoke  of  telling  you, 
I  said  to  myself  that  I  knew,  or  I  fancied  I  knew  what  a 
girl  like  Yolande  Winterbourne  would  be  sure  to  do  in  such 
circumstances — and  so  I  thought  I  would  venture  the  sug- 
gestion to  them,  and — and  if  it  turned  out  to  be  so,  then  I 
might  be  of  some  little  help  to  you." 

That  was  cleverly  done ;  he  had  not  told  her  it  was 
the  Master  of  Lynn  who  had  insisted  on  that  disclosure. 

And  now  she  was  gathering  her  courage  to  her,  though 
Btill  she  maintained  a  curious  sort  *  constrained  reserve  as 
though  she  were  keeping  a  tigb'  ,iold  over  her  feelings. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said  slo  >iy,  "  it  is  your  idea  1  should 
go  there — alone  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  not  afraid,  Yolande — if  you  are  not  afraid," 
he  said,  anxiously. 
"  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  Don't  you  see,  Yolande,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "  if  you  go 
accompanied  by  a  stranger,  she  may  think  it  is  a  solicitor — 
people  in  that  weak  mental  state  are  usually  suspicious — 
and  if  you  go  with  your  father  she  would  probably  only 
consider  it  a  repetition  of  former  interviews  that  came  to 
nothing.  No  ;  it  is  the  appearance  of  her  daughter  that  will 
startle  her  into  sudden  consciousness  of  what  she  is.  Then 
don't  mind  those  people  she  is  with.  Don't  be  afraid  of  them. 
They  dare  not  detain  her.  You  will  have  a  policeman  wait- 
ing outside ;  and  your  maid  will  go  into  the  house  with  you 
and  wait  in  the  passage.  You  will  have  to  assume  authority. 


204  YOLANDE. 

Youf  mother  may  be  a  bit  dazed,  poor  wom^n;  you  must  take 
her  with  you  ;  let  no  one  interfere.  Now  do  you  think  you 
have  nerve  for  that — all  by  yourself?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so,  "  she  said  calmly.  "  But  I  must 
begin  at  the  beginning.  I  cannot  leave  the  lodge  without 
putting  some  one  in  charge." 

"  I  will  send  up  Mrs.  Bell,  she  will  be  delighted." 

"  Ah,  will  you  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  quick  glance  of  grati- 
tude breaking  through  her  forced  composure  "  If  only  she 
would  be  so  kind  as  to  do  that !  She  knows  everything 
that  is  wanted." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that  for  a  moment,"  he 
said.  "  Mrs.  Bell  will  be  delighted;  there  is  nothing  she 
would  not  do  for  you." 

"  Then  I  must  take  away  my  things  with  me.  Perhaps 
I  shall  not  see  Allt-nam-Ba  again.  My  life  will  be  altered 
now.  Where  do  I  go  when  I  reach  London  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  the  hotel  your  father  and  you  were  at 
once  or  twice,  in  Albemarle  Street.  But  are  you  sure,  Yo- 
lande,  you  would  rather  not  have  some  one  go  with  you 
to  London  and  see  you  to  your  quarters  in  the  hotel  ? 
why,  I  would  myself — with  pleasure,  for  my  assistant 
Dalrymple  gets  on  very  well  in  the  school  now.  Or  Mr. 
Shortlands. — he  is  going  south  soon,  is  he  not '?  I  would  not 
ask  your  father;  it  would  be  too  painful  for  him." 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  want  anyone.  Jane  and 
I  will  do  very  well.  Besides,  I  could  not  wait  for  Mr.  Short- 
lands.  I  am  going  at  once. 

"  At  once  !  Surely  you  will  take  time  to  consider — " 

"  I  am  going  to-morrow."  she  said,  "  if  Mrs.  Bell  will 
be  so  kind  as  to  come  and  take  my  place." 

"  Don't  be  so  precipitate,  Yolande,"  he  said,  with  some 
anxiety.  4<  I  have  put  all  this  before  you  for  your  considera- 
tion, and  I  should  feel  I  was  burdened  with  a  terrible  respon- 
sibility if  you  were  to  do  anything  you  might  afterward 
regret.  Will  you  consult  Mr.  Shortlands  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Will  you  take  a  week  to  think  over  it  ?  " 

"No;  why?"  she  said,  simply.  "  Did  I  not  consider 
when  you  were  telling  me  the  story  of  this  imaginary  girl? 
Had  I  any  doubt?  No.  I  knew  what  she  would  decide.  I 
know  what  I  have  decided.  What  use  is  tl  ere  in  delay? 
Ah,  if  there  is  to  be  the  good  come  out  of  it  that  you  have 
imagined  for  me,  should  I  not  haste  ?  When  one  is  perish- 


YOLANDE.  265 

ing  you  do  not  think  twice  if  you  can  hold  out  your  hand. 
Do  you  think  that  I  regret  — that  I  am  sorry  to  leave  a 
little  comfort  behind — that  I  am  afraid  to  take  a  little 
trouble?  Surely  you  do  not  think  that  of  me  ?  Why  I  am 
anxious  to  go  now  is  to  see  at  once  what  can  be  done ;  to 
know  the  worst  or  the  best;  to  try.  And  now — I  shall  not 
be  speaking  to  my  papa  about  it ;  that  would  only  give  pain 
— will  you  tell  me  what  I  should  do  in  all  the  smalt  particu- 
lars ?  I  am  not  likely  to  forget." 

That  he  could  do  easily,  for  he  had  thought  enough 
over  the  matter.  He  gave  her  the  most  minute  instructions, 
guarding  against  this  or  that  possibility,  and  she  listened 
mutely  and  attentively,  with  scarcely  the  interruption  of  a 
question.  Then,  at  length,  he  rose  to  say  good-by,  and  she 
rose  too.  He  did  not  notice  that,  as  she  did  so,  her  lips 
quivered  for  the  briefest  second. 

He  hesitated. 

44  If  you  a  re  going  to-morrow,  Yolande,"  said  he,  "I  will 
see  you  as  you  pass.  I  will  look  out  for  you.  I  should  like 
to  say  good-by  to  you  ;  it  may  be  for  a  long  time." 

"It  may  be  for  always,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  cast 
down  ;  "  perhaps  I  shall  never  be  back  here  again." 

4'  And  I  am  sending  you  away  into  all  this  trouble  and 
grief.  How  can  I«help  knowing  that  it  is  I  who  am  doing 
it  ?  And  perhaps,  day  after  day  and  night  after  night,  I 
shall  be  trying  to  justify  myself,  when  I  am  thinking  over 
it,  and  wondering  where  you  are  ;  and  perhaps  1  shall  not 
succeed  very  well." 

"  But  it  is  I  who  justify  you — that  is  enough,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice.  '*  Did  I  not  decide  for  myself  ?  And  I 
know  that  in  your  heart  you  think  I  am  doing  right  ;  and 
if  you  are  afraid  for  me — well,  that  is  only  kindness — such 
as  that  you  have  always  shown  to  me." 

Here  she  stopped  ;  and  he  did  not  see  that  her  hands 
were  clinched  firm,  as  she  stood  there  opposite  him,  with 
her  eyes  cast  down. 

"And  whatever  happens,  Yolande — you  may  be  in  pain 
and  grief,  and  perhaps  all  you  may  endure  may  only  end 
in  bitter  disappointment — well,  I  hope  you  will  not  imagine 
that  I  came  to  you  with  my  proposal  unthinkingly.  I  have 
thought  over  it  night  and  day.  I  did  not  come  to  you 
offhand." 

"  Ah,  then,"  said  she,  quickly,  "  and  you  think  it  is 
neccessary  to  justify  yourself — you,  to  me,  as  if  I  did  not 


2C6  YOLANDE. 

know  you  as  well  as  I  know  myself!  Do  you  think  I  do  not 
know  you  and  understand  you — because  I  am  only  a  girl  ?" 
Her  forced  composure  was  breaking  down  altogether;  she 
was  trembling  somewhat ;  aud  now  there  were  tears  running 
down  her  cheeks,  despite  herself,  thougli  she  regarded  him 
bravely,  as  if  she  would  not  acknowledge  that.  "  And  you 
asked  me  what  the  girl  you  spoke  of  would  think  of  the  man 
who  came  to  her  and  showed  her  what  she  should  do.  Did 
I  not  answer  ?  I  said  she  would  know  then  that  he  was  the 
one  who  had  faith  in  her;  that  she  would  give  him  her 
graCitude;  that  she  would  know  who  was  her  best  and 
truest  friend.  And  now,  just  as  you  and  I  are  about  to  say 
good-by,  perhaps  forever,  you  think  it  is  necessary  for  you 
to  justify  yourself  to  me — you,  my  best  friend — my  more 
than  friend — " 

And  then — ah,  who  can  tell  how  such  things  happen,or 
which  is  to  bear  the  blame  ? — his  arms  were  round  her  trem- 
bling figure,  and  she  was  sobbing  violently  on  his  breast. 
And  what  was  this  wild  thing  she  said,  in  the  bewilderment 
of  her  grief :  **  Oh,  why,  why  was  my  life  given  away  before 
I  ever  saw  you  ?  " 

"  Yolande,"  said  he,  with  his  face  very  pale,  "I  am  go- 
ing to  say  something  ;  for  this  is  our  last  meeting.  What 
can  a  few  words  matter — my  darling! — if  we  are  never  to 
see  each  other  again  ?  I  love  you.  I  shall  love  you  while 
I  have  life.  Why  should  I  not  say  it  for  this  once  ?  I 
blinded  myself ;  I  tried  to  think  it  friendship — friendship, 
and  the  world  was  just  filled  with  light  whenever  I  saw 
you !  It  is  our  last  meeting ;  you  will  let  me  say  this  for 
once — how  can  it  harm  you  ?  " 

She  shrank  out  of  his  embrace ;  she  sank  down  on  the 
couch  there,  and  turned  away  her  head  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  hand. 

"Ob!  go!"  she  murmured.  "What  have  I  done? 
For  pity's  sake  go — and  forget  ?  Forget !  " 

He  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  couch  ;  and  he  was 
paler  than  ever  now. 

"  Yolande,  it  i«  for  you  to  forget  and  forgive.  I  have 
been  a  traitor  to  my  friend  ;  I  have  been  a  traitor  to  you. 
You  shall  never  see  me  again.  God  bless  you ! — and 
good-by !  " 

He  kissed  her  hair,  and  rose,  and  got  himself  out  of  the 
Vouse.  As  he  went  down  that  wide  strati) — his  eyes  fixed 
on  nothing,  like  one  demented,  and  his  mind  whirling  thU 


YOLANDE.  267 

way  ami  that  amid  clouds  of  remorse  and  reproach  and 
immeasurable  pity — it  seemed  to  him  that  he  felt  on  his 
brow  the  weight  of  the  brand  of  Cain. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

PREPARATIONS. 

AND  as  for  her  :  she  was  stunned  almost  into  uncon- 
ciousness  by  this  shock  of  self-abasement  and  distress.  She 
lay  on  the  sofa,  her  face  covered  with  her  hands  ;  she  could 
not  face  the  light.  What  was  she  then  ? — she  who  hitherto 
had  been  so  fearless  and  so  proud.  A  flirt,  a  jilt,  a  light  o' 
_love — that  was  how  she  saw  herself;  and  then  there  was 
herself;  and  then  there  was  a  kind  of  despair  over  the 
misery  she  had  wrought,  and  a  yearning  to  have  him  back 
to  implore  his  pity  and  his  forgiveness ;  and  then  sudden 
resolves  to  free  herself  in  another  direction,  at  any  cost  of 
penitence  and  humiliation.  She  began  to  compose  hurried, 
brief  messages,  though  the  throbbing  brain  and  the  shame- 
stricken  soul  could  scarce  decide  between  the  fitness  of 
them.  These  were  some  of  them, — 

"DEAR  PAPA, — I  have  gone  away.  Tell  Archie  not  to 
think  any  more  about  me.  YOLANDE." 

And  then  again, — 

"  DEAR  ARCHIE — I  send  you  back  the  engagement  ring: 
I  am  not  worthy  to  be  your  wife.  I  am  sorry  if  I  have 
caused  you  any  disappointment,  but  you  have  less  to  regret 
than  I  have." 

And  then  again — to  one  not  named  at  all, — 

"  To-day  I  go  away.  Never  think  of  me  again,  or  of 
Vkhat  has  happened.  Forgive  me  ;  that  is  all." 

And  then  she  began  to  think — if  this  wild  torture  of  sug- 
gestions could  be  called  thinking — of  the  undertaking  that 
lay  before  her,  and  the  thought  of  it  was  something  of  a  re- 
lief. There  would  be  an  occupation,  urgent,  continuous,  de- 
manding all  her  attention  ;  in  time,  and  in  a  measure,  she 
might  school  herself  to  forget.  Perhaps,  if  this  duty  turned 
out  to  be  a  very  sad  and  painful  one,  it  might  be  taken  by 


2G8  YOLANDE. 

those  whom  she  had  wronged  as  a  sort  of  penance  ?  She 
was  prepared  to  suffer.  She  thought  she  deserved  to  suf- 
fer. Had  she  not  proved  a  traitor  to  the  man  whom  she  had 
promised  to  marry  ?  Had  she  not  brought  misery  to  this 
best  and  dearest  of  all  her  friends,  to  this  fine  and  noble 
nature  that  she  had  learned  to  know,  and  that  by  her  idle- 
ness and  carelessness — the  carelessness  of  a  vain  coquette 
and  light-o'-love,  heedless  of  consequences?  What  would 
he  think  of  her  ?  She  could  only  vaguely  recall  the  re- 
proaches he  had  heaped  upon  himself ;  but  she  knew  that 
he  was  in  distress,  and  that  she  was  the  cause  of  it.  And 
perhaps  if  there  were  trials  in  store  for  her,  if  there  was  suf- 
fering in  store  for  her,  perhaps  he  would  never  know  that 
she  rather  welcomed  that,  and  was  content  to  receive  her  pun- 
ishment? Perhaps  he  would  never  know  how  grieved  she 
was  ?  It  was  over  and  done,  not  past  recall.  And  she 
knew  that  henceforth  her  life  would  be  quite  different  to 
her. 

How  long  she  lay  there  in  that  misery  of  her  remorse 
and  despair  she  probably  never  knew,  but  at  last  she  forced 
herself  to  rise.  She  was  not  thinking  of  her  appearance ; 
she  did  not  know  that  her  face  was  haggard  and  pale  ;  that 
an  expression  never  before  there  was  there  now ;  that  her 
eyes  were  no  longer  the  eyes  of  a  child.  She  was  going 
away — this  was  all  she  was  compelling  herself  to  think  about 
— and  there  were  preparations  to  be  made.  And  so  in  a 
slow  and  mechanical  fashion  she  began  to  put  a  few  things 
together,  even  in  this  drawing-room,  although  every  other 
minute  her  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as  she  came  upon 
some  little  trifle  that  was  associated  with  him — something 
he  had  done  for  her,  something  that  he  had  brought  her, 
showing  his  continued  solicitude  and  thotightfulness  and  af- 
fection. Why  had  she  not  seen?  Why  did  she  not  under- 
stand ?  And  then  she  began  to  think  of  the  evenings  he 
had  spent  at  the  house,  and  of  the  walks  they  had  had  to- 
gether down  the  wide  valley  ;  and  she  began  to  know  why 
it  was  that  these  evenings  had  seemed  so  rich  in  happy 
human  sympathies,  and  why  the  valley  had  appeared  so  won- 
drous and  beautiful,  and  why  her  life  at  Allt-narn-Ba  had  so 
strange  and  unnamable  a  charm  thrown  over  it.  And  he — 
he  had  been  blind  too.  She  knew  that  he  could  not  have 
imagined  it  possible  that  he  was  betraying  his  friend  ;  other- 
wise he  would  have  fled  from  the  place.  She  was  standing 
quite  still  now,  her  eyes  distraught,  and  sho  was  trying 


YOLANDE.  269 

recall  the  very  tones  in  which  he  had  said,  "  I  love  you." 
That  was  the  misery  of  it,  and  the  cause  of  her  shame,  and 
the  just  reason  for  her  remorse  and  self-abasement ;  and 
yet — and  yet  somewhere  or  other  deep  down  In  her  heart 
there  was  a  curious  touch  of  pride  tlj.it  she  heard  those 
words.'  If  circumstances  had  been  different — to  be  ap- 
proved, to  have  won  the  affection,  to  be  loved  by  one  liko 
that!  And  then  a  passion  of  selfcontempt  seized  her,  and 
she  said  to  herself:  "You  to  think  yourself  worthy  of  such 
a  love !  You,  who  can  allow  yourself  to  think  of  such  o 
things  with  that  ring  on  your  finger  !  " 

This  also  was  strange,  that,  amid  all  the  preparations 
for  departure  that  she  was  now  mechanically  making,  she 
should  be  possessed  by  a  singular  anxiety  that  Mrs.  Bell, 
when  she  came  to  Allt-nam-Ba,  should  find  the  household 
arrangements  in  the  most  perfect  order.  Had  she  some 
vague  hope  or  fancy,  then,  that  some  day  or  other,  when 
she  should  be  far  enough  away  from  Allt-nam-Ba  and  Gress 
and  Lynn,  and  not  likely  to  see  any  of  them  again,  her 
name  might  be  mentioned  casually  by  this  good  woman, 
and  mentioned  perhaps  with  some  slight  word  of  approval? 
When  she  drew  out  for  Mrs.  Bell's  guidance  a  list  of  her 
arrangements  with  the  Inverness  tradesmen,  she  was  dis- 
satisfied with  the  mere  handwriting  of  it  (for  indeed  her 
fingers  trembled  somewhat),  and  she  destroyed  it  and  wrote 
out  another,  and  that  she  destroyed,  and  wrote  out  another 
— until  the  handwriting  was  fairly  clear  and  correct. 

Her  maid  Jane  was  a  fool  of  a  woman,  but  even  she 
could  see  that  her  young  mistress  was  faint-looking,  and 
even  ill-looking,  and  again  and  again  she  besought  her  to 
desist  from  these  preparations,  and  to  go  and  have  some 
lunch,  which  awaited  her  in  the  dining-room. 

"  You  know,  miss,"  said  she,  "  You  can't  go  before 
your  papa  comes  home,  and  then  it  would  be  far  too  late 
to  catch  the  steamer.  You  can't  go  before  the  morning; 
and  I  am  sure,  miss,  you  will  be  quite  ill  and  unable  to 
travel  if  you  don't  eat  something." 

Well,  Yolande  went  into  the  dining.room,  and  sat  down 
at  the  table  ;  but  she  could  not  eat  or  drink  anything ;  and ; 
in  a  minute  or  two  she  was  back  again  in  her  bedroom  su- 
perintending the  packing  of  her  trunks.  However  she  was 
in  time  compelled  to  desist.  The  mental  agitation  of  the 
morning,  combined  with  this  want  of  food,  produced  the 
natural  result;  she  gradually  acquired  a  violent  headache 


270  YOLANDE. 


headache  so  violent  that  further  superintendance  of 
packing  or  anything  else  was  entirely  out  of  the  question. 
Now  it  was  the  literal  fact  that  she  had  never  had  a  head- 
ache in  her  life — except  once,  at  the  chateau,  when  a  large 
volume  she  was  reaching  for  in  the  library  fell  and  struck 
her — and  she  did  not  know  what  to  do  ;  but  she  fancied 
that  by  tying  a  wet  towel  round  her  head  she  might  lessen 
the  throbbing  of  the  temples;  and  this  she  did,  lying  down 
the  while.  Jane  stole  out  of  the  room,  fancying  her  young 
mistiess  might  now  get  some  sleep.  The  girl  was  not 
thinking  of  sleep. 

Mr.  Winterbourne  and  John  Shortlands  were  on  their 
way  back  from  the  hill. 

"  I  scarcely  know  what  has  happened  to-day,"  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne was*  saying.  "  All  the  time  I  have  been  thinking 
of  our  going  back.  And  I  know  what  I  shall  find  when  I 
go  back — the  wreck  of  the  happiness  that  I  have  so  care- 
fully nursed  all  through  these  years.  It  is  like  hedging 
round  a  garden,  and  growing  flowers  there,  and  all  at  once, 
some  morning,  you  find  the  place  trampled  down  and  a 
wilderness.  I  hope  I  am  not  unjust,  Shortlands,  but  I 
think  he  might  have  spared  her." 

"Who?" 

"  Young  Leslie.  I  think  he  might  have  spared  her.  It 
was  not  much.  Don't  you  think — out  of  consideration — " 

"Nonsense,  man.  What  young  Leslie  has  done  seems 
to  me,  on  reflection,  perfectly,  just,  and  right,  and  reason- 
able," said  John  Shortlands,  telling  a  lie  in  the  calmest  man- 
ner possible.  "  The  young  people  ought  not  to  be  ham- 
pered in  starting  life.  A  little  trouble  now — what  is  that? 
And  it  will  be  better  for  you  too,  Winterbourne.  You 
would  have  kept  on  worrying  yourself.  You  would  have 
lioen  always  apprehensive  about  something.  You  would 
have  reproached  yourself  for  not  telling  him." 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself,"  Yolande's  father  said, 
rather  wistfully.  "  I  could  have  borne  all  that ;  I  am  used 
to  it.  It  is  about  her  I  am  thinking.  I  remember  in  Egypt 
away  up  at  that  still  place,  wondering  whether  all  her  life 
might  not  be  just  as  quiet  and  uneventful  and  happy  as  it 
was  there," 

"The  fact  is,  Winterbourne,"  said  John  Shortlands, 
bluntly,  "  you  are  just  mad  about  that  child  of  yours,  and 
you  expect  the  world  to  be  changed  all  on  her  account; 
whereas  every  reasonable  being  knows  that  she  must  take 


YOLANDE.  271 

her  chance  of  trouble  as  well  as  others.  And  this — what 
is  this  ?  Is  it  so  erreat  an  affair  ?  You  don't  know  yet 
whether  she  will  follow  out  that  suggestion  of  Melville's. 
Perhaps  she  won't.  If  you  would  rather  she  should  not, 
no  douht  she  will  abide  by  your  wishes.  By  this  time  she 
has  been  told.  The  secret  is  at  an  end.  Leslie  has  had 
what  he  wanted  :  what  the  devil  more  can  he  ask  for?" 

But  the  asperity  of  this  last  phrase  rather  betrayed  his 
private  opinion ;  and  so  he  added  quickly  : — 

"  However,  as  you  say,  she  is  more  likely  to  go.  Well, 
why  not  look  at  the  brighter  side  of  things  ?  There  is  a 
possibility.  Oh,  you  ne'edn't  shake  your  head  ;  when  I  look 
at  the  whole  thing  from  Melville's  point  of  view  I  can  see 
the  possibility.  He's  a  devilish  long-headed  fellow  that, 
and  a  devilish  fine  fellow  too ;  not  many  men  would  have 
bothered  their  heads  as  he  has  done.  I  wouldn't.  If  you 
and  I  weren't  old  friends,  do  you  think  I  would  have  inter- 
fered ?  I'd  have  let  you  go  on  your  own  way.  But  now, 
old  chap,  I  think  you'll  find  Yolande  ready  "to  go;  and 
you'd  better  not  make  too  much  fuss  about  it,  and  frighten 
the  girl.  I  shall  be  in  London  ;  I  shall  see  she  has  plenty 
of  money." 

"  It  seems  so  inhuman,"  her  father  said,  absently. 

"What?" 

"  That  I  should  remain  here  shooting,  and  she  be  al- 
lowed to  go  away  there  alone." 

"  My  dear  fellow  she'll  get  on  twenty  times  better  with- 
out you,"  said  Shortlands,  plainly.  "It  seems  to  me  that 
what  you  say  Melville  pointed  out  to  you,  was  just  the  per- 
fection of  good  advice.  You'll  do  well  to  abide  by  it." 

"  But  he  does  not  know  Yolande  as  I  do,"  her  father 
said. 

"  He  seems  to  have  made  a  thundering  good  guess,  any- 
way." 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  He  does  not  know  how  she  has 
been  brought  up — always  looked  after  and  cared  for.  She 
has  never  been  allowed  to  shift  about  for  herself.  Oh,  as 
regards  herself  I  can  see  well  enough  that  he  imagines  she 
has  certain  qualities,  and  perhaps  he  thinks  it  rather  fine  to 
make  experiments.  Well,  I  don't.  I  don't  see  why  Yolande 
should  be  made  the  victim  of  any  experiment ;  I  am  con- 
tent with  her  as  she  is." 

"  You'd  better  see  what  she  says  about  it  herself." 

When   they  reached  the   lodge    Yolande   was  not,   a* 


272  YOLANDE. 

usual,  standing  in  the  porch  to  welcome  them  home  from 

the  hill. 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  "  Miss  Winterbourne  has  a 
headache,  and  says  would  you  excuse  her  coming  down  to 
dinner." 

He  stood  irresolute  for  a  second  or  two,  obviously 
greatly  disturbed  ;  then  he  slowly  and  thoughtfully  went  up 
the  stairs,  and  gently  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  room. 

"May  I  come  in,  Yolande?  " 

She  had  just  time  to  untie  the  wet  towel  from  her  head, 
to  smooth  her  hair,  and  sit  up  in  bed. 

"Yes,  papa." 

He  entered,  went  over  and  drew  a  chair  near  to  her, 
and  sat  down. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you  Yolande,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
and  his  eyes  were  nervously  bent  on  the  ground. 

"  Why,  papa  ?  " 

She  spoke  in  quite  a  cheerful  way  ;  and  as  he  had  not 
suffered  his  eyes  to  meet  hers,  he  was  unaware  how  that 
cheerfulness  was  belied  by  the  strange  expression  in  them. 
She  was  forcing  herself  to  make  light  of  this  matter;  she 
would  not  have  him  troubled.  And  perhaps,  indeed,  to  her 
this  was  in  truth  a  light  matter,  as  compared  with  that 
tragic  disclosure  and  its  consequences  which  seemed  to 
have  cut  away  from  her  at  once,  and  forever,  the  shining  and 
rose-colored  years  of  her  youth. 

"  If  I  erred,  Yolande,"  said  he,  "  in  keeping  all  this  back 
from  you,  I  did  it  for  the  best." 

"  Do  you  need  to  say  that  to  me,  papa  ?  "  she  answered, 
with  some  touch  of  reproach. 

"  I  thought  it  would  save  you  needless  pain,"  said  he ; 
and  then,  as  he  ventured  to  lift  his  eyes,  he  caught  sight  of 
the  pale,  anguish-stricken  face,  and  he  nearly  cried  aloud  in 
his  sudden  alarm,  "  Yolande,  are  you  ill  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  papa;"  and  she  did  try  her  best  to  look  very 
cheerful.  "  I  have  a  headache — that  is  all ;  and  it  is  not  so 
bad  as  it  was.  I — I  have  been  seeing  things  packed,  and 
making  arrangements." 

"  You  are  going,  Yolande  ? ''  he  said,  \vith  a  sinking  of 
the  heart. 

"TliMt,  again,  it  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  ask  me,"  the 
girl  said,  simply. 

u  lint  not  at  once,  Yolande?  "  said  he,  glancing  at  an 
oju-n  trunk.  "  Not  at  once  ?  " 


YOLANDE  273 

"  To-morrow  morning,  papa,"  she  answered.  "  Oh,  but  I 
assure  you,  you  will  be  put  to  no  trouble,  no  trouble  at  all. 
Mrs.  Bell  is  coming  from  Gress  to  see  everything  right.  And 
I  have  made  out  lists  for  her;  it  is  all  ananged;  you 
will  not  know  any  difference — " 

*'  Yolande,  you  will  make  me  angry  if  you  talk  like  that. 
What  signifies  our  comfort  ?  It  is  the  notion  of  your  going 
away  by  yourself — " 

"Jane  goes  with  me.  That  is  all  arranged  also,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  no  fear." 

"Listen,  now,  Yolande.  I  don't  disapprove  of  your  go- 
ing. We  have  tried  everything,  and  failed  ;  if  there  is  a 
chance  of  your  succeeding — well,  perhaps  one  might  say  it 
is  your  duty  to  go.  Poor  child,  I  would  rather  have  had 
you  know  nothing  about  it ;  but  that  is  all  over  now.  Well, 
you  see,  Yolande,  if  you  go,  there  must  be  no  unnecessary 
risk  or  trouble  about  your  going.  I  have  been  thinking 
that  perhaps  Mr.  Melville  may  be  a  little  too  imaginative. 
He  sees  things  strongly.  And  in  insisting  that  you  should 
go  alone,  why,  there  may  be  a  danger  that  he  has  been 
carried  away  *by  a — by  a — well,  I  don't  know  how  to  put 
it,  except  that  he  may  be  so  anxious  to  have  this  striking 
appeal  made  to  your  poor  mother  as  to  be  indifferent  to 
ordinary  precautions.  Why  should  you  go  friendless  and 
alone?  Why  should  I  remain  amusing  myself  here?  ° 

"Because  you  would  be  of  no  use  to  me,  papa,"  said 
she,  calmly.  "  I  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"  Why,  then,  should  you  not  wait  for  a  few  days,  and 
travel  south  with  Mr.  Shortlands  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  I  must  go  at  once,  papa — at  once  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  must  go  to-morrow.  And  Jane  goes  with  me.  Is  it  not 
simple  enough  ?  " 

44  Yolande,  you  can  not  be  left  in  London  with  absolute- 
ly no  one  to  whom  you  can  appeal.  The  least  you  must 
do  is  to  take  a  letter  to  Lawrence  <fe  Lang.  They  will  do 
anything  you  want ;  they  will  let  you  have  what  you  want; 
if  there  is  any  hiring  of  lodgings  or  anything  of  that  kind, 
they  will  send  one  of  their  clerks.  You  cannot  be  stranded 
in  London  without  the  chance  of  assistance,  you  must  go 
to  Lawrence  &  Lang." 

"I  may  have  to  go  to  them — that  also  is  arranged.  But 
they  must  not  interfere,  they  must  not  come  with  me  ;  that 
was  not  Mr.  Melville's  idea,"  she  said  ;  though  the  pale  face 
turned  still  paler  as  she  forced  herself  to  utter  the  name. 


274  YOLANDE. 

11  Mr.  Melville  !  "  he  said,  angrily.  "  You  seem  to  think 
the  whole  wisdom  of  the  world  is  centred  in  Mr.  Melville! 
I  don't  at  all  know  that  he  was  right  in  coming  to  put  all 
this  trouble  on  you.  Perhaps  he  would  not  have  been  so 
quick  if  it  had  been  his  own  sister  or  his  own  daughter — " 

Then  a  strange  thing  occurred.  She  had  flung  herself 
down  on  the  pillow  again,  her  face  buried,  her  whole  frame 
shaken  by  the  sudden  violence  of  her  crying. 

"  Don't — don't— don't !  "  she  sobbed,*piteously.  "  Don't 
speak  like  that,  papa  !  There  is  enough  trouble — there  is 
enough." 

"  Wliat  is  it,  Yolande?"  said  he.  "  Well,  no  wonder 
your  nerves  have  been  upset.  I  wonder  you  have  taken  it 
so  bravely.  I  will  leave  you  now,  Yolande  ;  but  you  must 
try  and  come  down  to  dinner." 

Dinner  was  put  on  the  table ;  but  she  did  not  make  her 
appearance.  A  message  was  sent  up  to  her;  the  answer 
was  that  she  merely  wished  to  have  a  cup  of  tea  by  and  by. 
Jane,  on  being  questioned,  said  that  everything  had  been 
got  ready  for  their  departure  the  following  morning,  even 
to  the  ordering  of  the  dog-cart  for  a  particular  hour. 

"  Yes,"  her  father  said  to  John  Shortlands,  as  they  sat 
rather  silently  at  the  dinner  table,  "  she  seems  bent  on  go- 
ing at  once.  Perhaps  it  is  because  she  is  nervous  and  anx- 
ious, and  wants  to  know  the  worst.  She  won't  have  any 
one  with  her ;  she  is  determined  to  keep  to  Melville's  plan, 
though  I  wanted  her  to  wait  and  go  south  \vith  you.  What 
a  dreadful  thing  it  would  be  if  any  harm  were  to  befal 
her—" 

"  Why,  what  harm  can  befal  her?"  his  friend  said. 
"  What  is  a  journey  to  London  ? — nothing  !  She  gets  into 
the  train  at  Inverness  to-morrow  at  mid-day;  the  next 
morning  she  is  in  London.  Then  a  cab  takes  her  to  the 
hotel :  what  more  simple  ?  The  real  risk  begins  after  that ; 
and  it  is  then  that  your  friend  Melville  insists  that  she 
should  take  the  thing  into  her  own  hands.  Well,  dang  me 
if  I'm  afraid  of  the  consequences !  There's  good  grit  in 
her.  She  hasn't  had  her  nerves  destroyed,  as  you  have. 
When  the  cob  was  scampering  all  over  the  place  yesterday, 
and  the  groom  couldn't  get  hold  of  him,  did  she  run  into 
the  house?  Not  much.  She  waylaid  him  at  the  end  of 
the  bothy,  and  got  hold  of  him  herself,  and  led  him  to  the 
stable  door.  I  don't  think  the  lass  has  a  bad  temper,  but  I 
shouldn't  like  to  be  the  one  to  put  a  finger  on  her  against 


YOLANDE.  27  ft 

her  will.  Don't  you  fear.  I  can  see  where  the  bit  of 
trouble,  if  there  is  to  be  any  at  all,  will  most  likely  come  in  ; 
and  I  am  not  afraid.  It's  wonderful  what  women  will  do 
— ay,  and  weak  women  too — in  defense  of  those  who  have 
a  claim  on  their  affection.  Talk  about  the  tigress  and  her 
young:  a  woman's  twice  as  bad,  or  twice  as  good,  if  you 
take  it  that  way.  I  fancy  some  o'  those  poor  devils  of 
School  Board  inspectors  must  have  a  baddish  time  of  it 
occasionally — I  don't  envy  them.  I  tell  you  you  needn't 
be  afraid,  my  good  fellow.  Yolande  will  be  able  to  take 
care  of  herself.  And  I  think  Jack  Melville  has  put  her  on 
to  doing  the  right  thing,  whatever  comes  of  it." 

Yolande  did  not  appear  that  night ;  she  was  too  much 
distracted  by  her  own  thoughts ;  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
confronted  with  questioning  eyes.  But  she  found  time  to 
write  this  brief  note  : 

"  Tuesday  night. 

"  DEAR  MB.  SIIORTLANDS, — As  it  is  not  likely  I  shall 
see  you  in  the  morning,  for  I  am  going  away  at  a  very 
early  hour,  1  leave  you  this  word  of  good-by.  And  please 
— please  stay  with  papa  as  long  as  ever  you  conveniently 
can.  Duncan  assures  me  that  it  is  now  you  will  be  begin- 
ning to  have  chances  with  tha  red  deer. 
'•  Yours  affectionately, 

"  YOLANDE  WINTERBOURNE." 

And  as  to  that  other — the  friend  who  was  sending  her 
forth  on  this  mission — was  she  going  away  without  one 
word  of  good-by  for  him?  She  considered  that;  and  did 
not  sleep  much  that  night. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

"  IHB  MATTEN,    LEBT    WOHL  !  " 

THE  pale  clear  glow  of  the  dawn  was  telling  on  the 
higher  slopes  of  the  hills  when  she  arose,  and  all  the  house 
was  asleep.  The  heart  searching  of  that  long  night  had 
calmed  her  somewhat.  Now  she  was  chiefly  anxious  to 
get  away ;  to  seek  forgetfulness  of  this  sad  discovery  in 


£76  YOLANDE. 

the  immediate  duty  that  lay  before  her.  And  if  sometimes 
the  fear  was  forced  upon  her  that  neither  for  him  nor  for 
her  was  forget  fill  ness  possible,  well,  it  was  not  her  own 
share  of  that  suffering  that  she  regarded  with  dismay. 
Nay,  did  she  not  rather  welcome  that  as  a  punishment 
which  she  deserved,  as  a  penance  which  might  be  counted 
to  her  in  the  due  course  of  years  ?  If  this  passage  in  her 
life  was  not  to  be  obliterated,  at  least,  and  in  the  meantime 
she  would  endeavor  to  close  the  chapter.  She  was  going 
away  from  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  from  the  mistakes  and  mis- 
eiies  that  had  happened  there.  A  new  era  in  her  life  was 
opening  before  her ;  perhaps  she  would  have  less  to  re- 
proach herself  with  in  that. 

In  the  silence  of  this  pale  clear  morning  she  sat  down 
and  wrote  still  another  message  of  farewell,  the  terms  of 
which  she  had  carefully  (and  not  without  some  sinkings  of 
conscience)  studied  during  the  long  wakeful  hours : 

"  ALLT-NAM-BA,  Wednesday  morning. 

"  DEAB  ARCHIE, — a  grave  duty  calls  me  suddenly  away 
to  the  south.  No  doubt  you  can  guess  what  it  is ;  and 
you  will  understand  how,  in  the  meantime  at  least,  all  our 
other  plans  and  arrangements  must  yield  to  it.  Probably, 
as  I  am  anxious  to  catch  the  early  boat  at  Foyers,  I  may 
not  see  you  to  say  good-by ;  and  so  I  send  you  this  message 

"  From  your  affectionate 

"  YOLANDE." 

She  regarded  this  letter  with  much  self-humiliation.  It 
was  not  frank.  Perhaps  she  had  no  right  to  write  to  him 
so,  without  telling  him  of  what  had  happened  the  day  be- 
fore. And  yet,  again,  what  time  was  there  now  for  ex- 
planation ?  and  perhaps,  as  the  days  and  the  months  and 
the  years  went  by,  there  might  never  be  need  of  any  ex- 
planation. Her  life  was  to  be  all  different  now. 

The  household  began  to  stir.  There  was  a  crackling  of 
wood  in  the  kitchen  ;  outside,  Sandy  could  be  heard  open- 
ing the  doors  of  the  coachouse.  Then  Jane  put  in  anappear- 
ance,  to  finally  close  her  young  mistress's  portmanteaux. 
And  then,  everything  having  been  got  ready,  when  she  went 
downstairs  to  the  dining-room,  she  was  surprised  to  find 
her  father  there. 

"  Why  did  you  get  up  so  early  ? "  said  she,  in  pro- 
test. 


YOLANDE.  277 

"  Do  you  think  I  was  going  to  let  you  leav^  without  say- 
ing good-by  ?  "  he  answered.  "You  are  looking  a  little  bet- 
ter this  morning,  Yolande  — but  not  well,  not  well.  Are 
you  sure  you  won't  reconsider  ?  Will  you  not  wait  a  few 
days,  accustom  yourself  to  think  of  it,  and  then  go,  if  you 
will  go,  with  Mr.  Shortlands  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  that  is  all  over,  papa,"  said  she.  "  That  is  all 
settled.  I  am  going  this  morning — now." 

"  Now?  Wty  now  ?  It  is  only  half  past  six  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  I  wish  to  have  enough  time  at  Gress,"  she  answered, 
calmly,  uto  explain  all  the  arrangements  to  Mrs.  Bell." 

But  he  compelled  her  to  sit  down  and  have  some  break- 
fast, while  he  remained  at  the  window,  anxious,  disturbed, 
and  yet  for  the  most  part  silent.  There  was  no  doubt  he 
regarded  her  going  with  an  undefined  dread ;  but  he  saw 
that  it  was  no  use  to  try  to  dissuade  her,  her  purpose  being 
so  obviously  settled  and  clear.  There  was  another  thing  : 
he  showed  the  greatest  embarrassment  in  talking  in  any 
way  whatever  about  the  subject.  He  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  mention  his  wife's  name.  To  Yolande  he  had  said 
"  your  poor  mother" — but  only  once.  He  seemed  unable 
to  make  this  thing  that  he  had  hidden  from  her  for  so  many 
years  a  topic  of  conversation. 

And  it  was  almost  in  silence,  and  with  a  face  overshad- 
owed with  gloom,  that  he  saw  the  last  preparations  made. 
He  followed  her  out  to  the  dog-cart.  He  himself  would 
fasten  the  rugs  round  her  knees,  the  morning  being  some- 
what chilly.  And  when  they  drove  away  he  stood  there 
for  a  long  time  regarding  them,  until  the  dog-cart  disap- 
peared at  the  turning  of  the  road,  and  Yolande  was  gone. 
This,  then,  was  the  end  of  that  peaceful  security  that  he  had 
hoped  to  find  at  Allt-nam-Ba  ! 

Yolande  was  not  driving  this  morning;  she  had  too 
many  things  to  think  of.  But  when  they  reached  the  bridge 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  loch,  she  told  Sandy  to  stop,  and 
took  the  reins. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  for  Mr.  Leslie."  she  said.  "  You  need 
not  take  it  up  to  the  house ;  put  it  in  the  letter-box  at  the 
gate." 

Then  they  drove  on  again.  When  they  had  climbed  the 
hill  she  looked  over  to  Lynn  Towers,  but  she  could  not 
make  out  any  one  at  any  of  the  windows.  There  were  one 
or  two  stable  lads  about  the  outhouses,  but  otherwise  no 


278  YOLANDE. 

sign  of  life.  She  was  rather  glad  of  that.  If  he  had  waved 
his  handkerchief  to  her,  could  she  have  answered  that  sig- 
nal without  further  hypocrisy  and  shame  ?  Little  did  he 
know  what  traitress  was  passing  by.  But  indeed  she  ^  as 
gradually  ceasing  to  reproach  herself  in  this  way,  for  the 
reason  that  she  was  ceasing  to  think  about  herself  at  all.  It 
was  of  another  that  she  was  thinking.  It  was  his  future 
that  concerned  her.  tWhat  would  all  his  after-life  be  like? 
Would  there  be  some  reparation  ?  Would  time  heal  that  as 
it  healed  all  things  ? 

When  she  got  to  Gress  she  saw  that  Mrs.  Bell  was  in 
the  garden  behind  the  house,  and  thither  she  made  her  way. 
Yolande's  face  was  pale,  but  her  manner  was  quite  calm 
and  firm. 

"  Well,  here  are  doings !  "  said  the  cheerful  old  lady. 
"  And  I  was  just  hurrying  on  to  get  a  few  bit  flowers  for  ye. 
'Deed,  ye're  early  this  morning." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  Mrs.  Bell ;  but  please  do  not 
trouble.  You  expected  me,  then  ?  Mr. — Mr.  Melville  told 
you?" 

"  That  he  did.  And  I'll  just  be  delighted  to  be  of  any 
kind  of  service  to  ye  that  is  possible.  I'll  be  ready  to  go 
up  to  Allt-nam-Ba  by  mid-day;  and  I'm  thinking  I'll  take 
one  o'  the  young  lassies  wi'  me,  in  case  there's  nny  need- 
cessity  for  a  helping  band.  The  other  one  will  do  very  well 
to  look  after  this  place  when  both  Mr.  Melville  and  me  are 
away." 

"  But  is  he  going — is  he  going  away  ?  "  said  Yolande, 
with  a  sudden  alarm. 

"I  think  he  is;  though  it 's  no  my  place  to  ask,"  said 
Mrs.  Bell,  placidly.  "Last  night  I  saw  he  was  putting 
some  things  in  order  in  the  house.  And  I  jalouse  he 
stopped  in  the  laboratory  the  whole  night  through  for  he 
never  was  in  his  bed  ;  and  this  morning  I  caught  a  glint  o' 
him  going  out  before  any  o'  us  was  up.  I  dare  say  he  was 
off  to  one  o'  the  moorland  lochs  to  have  a  last  day  at  the 
trout  belike." 

"  He  is  not  here,  then  ?  "  the  girl  exclaimed,  with  dis- 
may in  her  eyes.  "  Mrs.  Bell,  I  must  see  him  !  Indeed,  I 
cannot  go  until  I  have  seen  him." 

*'  Wha  kens  where  he  may  be  now  ?  "  said  the  old  lady, 
good-lmmoredly  (for  she  clearly  had  no  idea  that  there  wa8 
anything  tragic  occurring  around  her).  "  There  never  was 
such  a  man  for  wandering  about  the  country  like  a  warlock. 


YOLANDE  279 

Many  a  fright  has  he  gi'en  the  shepherds,  when  they  came 
upon  him  in  the  corries  that  no  ordinary  Christian  ever 
goes  near." 

"  But  you  must  send  for  him,  Mrs.  Bell,"  said  Yolande, 
with  that  forced  calmness  of  demeanor  almost  breaking 
down.  "  I  can  not  go  away  without  bidding  him  good- 
by." 

The  old  woman  stopped  arranging  the  flowers  she  had 
gathered. 

"  I  canna  send  to  search  the  whole  country  o'  Inverness," 
she  said,  reflectively,  "  and  wha  kens  where  he  may  be  ?  If 
he's  no  back  by  schooltime  he's  off  for  the  day — ay,  and 
without  a  biscuit  in  his  pocket,  I'll  be  warrant.  But  it's 
just  possible  he  has  only  gaen  doon  to  the  burn  to  get  a 
trout  or  two ;  I  can  send  one  o*  the  lassies  to  see.  And 
though  I've  never  kenned  him  to  go  up  to  the  water- 
wheol  at  this  time  o'  the  morning,  I  canna  gang  wrang  in 
making  the  bell  ring.  If  you'll  just  hold  the  flowers  for  a 
minute,  my  dear  young  leddy,  I'll  go  into  the  house  and 
see  what  can  be  done." 

She  held  the  flowers  mechanically ;  she  did  not  look  at 
them;  her  eyes  were  "otherwhere."  But  when  Mrs.  Bell 
came  back  she  recalled  herself ;  and  with  such  calmness  as 
'she  could  command  she  showed  the  old  lady  all  the  arrange- 
ments she  had  made  with  regard  to  the  household  of  Allt- 
nam-Ba,  and  gave  her  the  lists  that  she  had  carefully  drawn 
out.  And  Mrs.  Bell  would  hear  of  no  such  thing  as  thanks 
or  gratitude  ;  she  said  people  were  well  off  who  could  be  of 
any  little  service  to  them  they  liked,  and  intimated  that  she 
was  proud  to  do  this  for  the  sake  of  the  young  lady  who 
had  been  kind  enough  to  take  notice  of  her. 

44  And  so  you  are  going  away  for  awhile,"  said  the  old 
Scotchwoman,  cheerfully.  "Ay,  ay.  But  coming  back 
soon  again,  I  hope.  Indeed,  my  dear  young  leddy,  if  it 
wasna  a  kind  o'  presumption  on  my  part,  I  would  say  to  ye, 
as  they  say  in  the  old  ballad, 4  O  when  will  ye  be  back  again, 
my  hinnie  and  my  dear?'  For  indeed,  since  ye  came  to 
Allt-nam-Ba,  it  has  just  been  something  to  gladden  an 
auld  woman's  een." 

"  What  is  the  ballad,  Mrs.  Bell  ?  "  Yolande  said,  quickly 
She  wished  to  evade  these  friendly  inquiries.  And  already 
she  was  Beginning  to  wonder  whether  she  had  enough 
strength  arm  cqurage  to  force  herself  to  go  without  seeing 
him  and  saying  this  last  vord  to  him. 


280  YOLANDE. 

"  The  ballad  ?  Oh,  that  was  the  ballad  o'  young  Randal," 
said  Mrs.  Bell,  in  her  good-natured,  garrulous  way.  "  May- 
be ye  never  heard  that  one  ? — 

*  Young  Randal  was  abonnie  lad  when  he  gaod  awa', 
A  braw,  braw  lad  was  he  when  he  gaed  awa'.' 

That  is  how  it  begins ;  and  then  they  a'  come  doon  to  see 
him  ride  off — his  father,  and  his  mother,  and  his  two  sisters ; 
but,  as  ye  may  imagine, — 

1  His  bonnie  cousin  Jean  lookit  o'er  the  castle  wa/ 
And  far  aboon  the  lave  let  the  tears  doon  fa'.' 

Then  it  goes  on  : — 

1 "  O  when  will  ye  be  back  again  ?  "  sae  kindly  did  E^  spier  ; 
"  O  when  will  ye  be  back  again,  my  hinnie  and  my  dear  ?  " 
"  As  soon  as  I  have  won  enough  o'  Spanish  gear 
To  dress  ye  a'  in  silks  and  lace,  my  dear." 

That  was  the  way  o'  those  times,  and  mony  a  sair  heart  was 
the  consequence.  Will  I  tell  ye  the  rest  o'  the  story  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Bell,  if  you  please,"  said  Yolande  though 
now  she  was  scanning  the  vacant  hillsides  with  a  wistful 
and  troubled  eye.  Was  he  not  coming,  then  ?  Must  she 
go  away  without  that  last  word  ? 

"Ye  see,  my  young  leddy,  the  story  jumps  over  a  good 
many  years  now,  and  he  comes  back  to  seek  out  his  true- 
love  Jean." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Yolande,  with  more  of  interest,  "to  see 
whether  she  has  been  faithful  to  him,  is  it  not?  And  of 
course  she  is.  It  is  so  easy  for  one  to  remain  faithful — in  a 
ballad,  where  nothing  happens  but  the  fancy  of  the  poet. 
And  then,  if  she  was  not  faithful,  who  would  write  about 
her  ?  She  would  be  contemptible — that  is  all." 

"  No  so  fast,  my  dear  young  leddy — no  so  fast.  Just 
listen  to  the  story, — 

'  Young  Randal  was  an  altered  man  when  he  came  haine  ; 
A  sair  altered  man  was  he  \vhen  he  came  hame, 
Wi'  a  star  on  his  breast  and  a  Sir  to  his  name, 
And  wi'  gray,  gray  locks  Sir  Kandal  came  hame. 

'  He  rode  to  the  castle  and  he  rispit  at  the  ring, 

And  down  came  our  lady  to  bid  him  ride  in  ; 

And  round  her  bonnie  bairnies  were  pi  ay  in'  on  the  green  : 
*  Can  this  auld  wife  be  my  true-love  Jean  ?  " 


YOLAXDE.  'JS1 

1 "  And  whatna  dour  au  1  carle  is  this  ?  "  quoth  the  dame. 
"  Sac  griff  and  sae  stiff,  sae  feckless  and  sae  lame  ?" 

Quoth  he  :  "  My  bonnie  leddy,  were  ye  sweet  Jeanie  Graham  ?  " 
"Indeed,  good  sir,  ye  have  guessed  my  very  name." 

1  Oh,  dool  on  the  wars  in  the  High  Germanic  I 
And  dool  on  the  poortith  o*  our  ain  countrie  ! 
And  dool  on  the  heart  that  unfaithful  can  be  !  — 
For  they've  wrecked  the  bravest  man  in  the  whole  conn  trie  !"  * 

Ye  see,  it's  a  sad  story  enough  ;  but  I'm  no  sure  whether  to 
blame  the  wars  in  the  High  Germanie,  or  the  poverty  o'  the 
old  Scotch  families,  or  the  young  lass  changing  her  mind. 
Maybe  if  she  had  been  less  anxious  for  silks  and  lace,  and 
maybe  if  he  had  been  less  anxious  to  hae  a  Sir  to  his  name, 
he  might  hae  bided  at  home,  and  married  her,  and  lived 
happily  enough.  It's  the  way  o'  young  people  never  to  be 
satisfied.  And  here  is  Mr.  Melville  going  away  just  when 
everything  was  ready  for  his  taking  back  the  land  that  be- 
longed to  his  own  people,  and  settling  down  on  it  as  he 
ought." 

u  Perhaps  he  will  not  go — perhaps  he  is  not  going,  Mrs. 
Bell,"  she  said,  in  a  despairing  kind  of  way ;  for  well  she 
knew,  if  he  were  indeed  going  what  was  the  cause. 

Then  she  looked  at  her  watch.  Well,  she  had  still 
nearly  half  an  hour  to  spare,  and  she  was  determined  to 
stay  till  the  last  minute  if  it  were  needful.  But  there  was 
no  figure  coming  along  the  road,  no  living  thing  visible  on 
these  vacant  hillsides,  nor  a  sign  of  life  along  the  wide 
moorland  of  the  valley.  She  was  grateful  for  Mrs.  Bell's 
talking;  it  lessened*  the  overstrain  of  the  suspense  somehow 
she  had  to  force  herself  to  listen  in  a  measure.  And  again 
and  again  she  expressed  the  hope  that  there  must  be  a 
mistake,  that  Mr.  Melville  was  not  really  going  away. 

"  It's  not  my  place  to  ask,"  the  old  lady  said,  doubtfully ; 
44  but  he  had  a  long  talk  when  he  came  home  yesterday  wi' 
the  lad  Dalrymple,  and  I  jalouse  it  was  about  his  being 
able  to  carry  on  the  school  by  hiinsel'.  It's  just  that  vexa- 
tious, my  dear  young  leddy! — and  yet  it  canna  be  helped. 
I  darena  say  a  word.  He's  a  headstrong  man,  and  he's  to 
be  managed  only  wi'  a  good  deal  o'  skill  ;  and  if  he  thought 
I  was  any  kind  o'  encumbrance,  or  expected  him  to  do  this, 
that,  or  the  other,  he  would  be  off  in  a  gliff.  But  the  vexa- 

*  Probably  this  version  of  the  ballad  is  very  imperfect,  as  it  is  put 
down  here  froia  memory. 


282  YOLANDR 

tiousness  o't,  to  be  sure !  It  was  only  the  day  before 
yesterday  that  I  wrote  to  they  lawyers  again.  I'm  no  gaun 
to  tell  ye,  my  young  leddy,  what  they  said  about  the  price 
o'  Monaglen,  for  it  might  get  about,  and  I'm  no  wanting 
him  token  what  I  paid' for  it,  if  I  get  it.  But  I  found! 
could  easy  buy  it,  and  have  a  good  nest-egg  for  him  besides  ; 
besides  my  own  £220  a  year  or  thereabouts  ;  and  sae  I 
wrote  to  they  lawyers  just  asking  them  in  a  kind  o'  way  to 
get  me  the  refusal  of  the  place  for  a  freend  o'  mine.  And 
then  yesterday  morning  I  began  and  argued  wi'  myseF.  I 
coveted  the  place,  that's  the"  truth.  And  says  I,  '  Kirsty, 
what's  the  use  o'  being  ower-cunning?  If  ye  want  to  buy 
Monaglen,  tell  them.  A  braw  thing  now,  if  it  were  to  slip 
through  your  fingers,  and  be  snappit  up  by  somebody  else : 
wadna  ye  be  a  disappointed  woman  a'  the  days  o'  your 
life  ? '  And  so,  as  second  thochts  are  best,  I  just  sat  down 
and  told  them  plump  and  plain  that  if  Monaglen  was  to  be 
got  for  that,  here  was  a  woman  that  would  take  it  for  that, 
and  telled  them  to  make  the  bargain,  and  drive  a  nail  into  it, 
there  and  then ;  and  that  a'  the  other  things — a'  the 
whigmaleeries  they  invent  just  to  make  poor  folk  pay 
money — could  be  settled  after.  And  to  think  o'  him  going 
away  the  now,  just  when  the  night's  post,  or  may  be  the 
morn's  night  post,  is  almost  sure  to  bring  me  a  telegram — I 
declare  it's  too  provokin' !  " 

"But  perhaps  he  is  not  going  away,"  said  Yolande, 
gently.  And  then  she  added,  suddenly,  and  with  her  face 
grown  a  deadly  white :  "  Mrs.  Bell,  that  is  Mr.  Melville 
coming  down  the  hill.  I  wish  to  speak  a  word  or  two  to 
him  by  himself." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  why  not?"  said  Mrs.  Bell,  cheerfully. 
"  I'm  just  going  indoors  to  put  a  bit  string  round  the 
flowers  for  ye.  And  there's  a  wee  bit  basket  too,  ye  maun 
tnke  ;  I  made  few  a  sweets,  and  comfits,  and  such  things  for 
ye  last  night,  that'll  help  to  amuse  ye  on  the  journey." 

She  did  not  hear;  she  was  regarding  him  as  he  ap- 
proached. His  features  were  as  pale  as  her  own  ;  his  lips 
were  thin  and  white.  When  he  came  to  her  he  stood  before 
her  with  his  eyes  cast  down  like  one  guilty.  The  pallor  of 
his  face  was  frightful. 

"  I  have  come  because  you  sent  for  me,"  he  said.  "  But 
there  is  nothing  you  can  say  to  me  that  I  have  not  said  to 
myself." 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  come  to  reproach  you  ?    No.     It 


YOLANDE.  283 

is  I  who  have  to  bear  the  blame,"  she  answered,  with 
apparent  calmness.  Then  she  added  :  "  I — I  sent  for  you 
because  I  could  not  go  away  without  a  word  of  goodrby." 

Here  she  stopped,  fearful  that  her  self-possession  would 
desert  her.  Her  hands  were  tightly  clinched,  and  uncon- 
sciously she  was  nervously  fingering  her  engagement  ring. 

"  I  do  not  see,"  she  said,  speaking  in  a  measured  way, 
as  if  to  make  sure  she  should  not  break  down,  "why  the 
truth  should  not  be  said  between  us — it  is  the  last  time. 
I  did  not  know ;  you  did  not  know  ;  it  was  all  a  misfortune  ; 
but  1  ought  to  have  known — 1  ought  to  have  guarded  my- 
self :  it  is  I  who  am  to  blame.  Well,  if  I  have  to  suffer,  it 
is  no  matter ;  it  is  you  that  I  am  sorry  for — " 

"  Yolande,  I  cannot  have  you  talk  like  that !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  One  moment,"  she  said — and  strangely  enough  her 
French  accent  seemed  more  marked  in  her  speech,  perhaps 
because  she  was  not  thinking  of  any  accent.  "  One 
moment.  When  I  am  gone  away,  do  not  think  that  I 
regret  having  met  you  and  known  you.  It  has  been  a 
misfortune  for  you ;  for  me,  no.  It  has  been  an  honor  to 
me  that  you  were  my  friend,  and  an  education  also  ;  you 
have  shown  me  what  this  one  or  that  one  may  be  in  the 
world ;  I  had  not  known  it  before  ;  you  made  me  expect 
better  things.  It  was  you  who  showed  me  what  I  should 
do.  Do  not  think  that  I  shall  forget  what  I  owe  you : 
whatever  happens,  I  will  try  to  think  of  what  you  would 
expect  from  me,  and  that  will  be  my  ambition.  I  wished  to 
say  this  to  you  before  I  went  away,"  said  she,  and  now 
her  fingers  were  trembling  somewhat,  despite  her  enforced 
calmness.  "  And  also  that — that,  if  one  can  not  retrieve 
the  past,  if  one  has  the  misfortune  to  bring  suffering  on — " 
"  Yolande,  Yolande,"  said  he,  earnestly,  and  he  looked 
up  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  "  do  not  speak  of  it — do  not 
think  of  it  any  more  ?  Put  it  behind  you.  You  are  no  longer 
a  girl ;  you  are  a  woman  ;  you  have  a  woman's  duties  before 
you.  Whatever  is  past,  let  that  be  over  and  gone.  If  any 
one  is  to  blame,  it  has  not  been  you.  Look  before  you ;  forget 
what  is  behind.  Do  you  know  that  it  is  not  a  light  matter 
you  have  undertaken  ?  " 

He  was  firmer  than  she  was ;  he  regarded  her  calmly, 
though  still  his  face  was  of  a  ghastly  paleness. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment  or  two ;  then   she  glanced 
around. 


284  YOLANDE. 

"  I  wish  you  to — to  give  me  a  flower,"  she  said,  "  that 
I  may  take  it  with  me." 

"  No,"  he  said  at  once.  "  No.  Forget  everything  that 
has  happened  here,  except  the  duty  you  owe  to  others." 

"  That  I  have  deserved,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Good-by." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it  and  held  it ;  and 
there  was  a  great  compassion  in  his  eyes.  To  her  they 
seemed  glorified  eyes,  the  eyes  of  a  saint,  full  of  a  sad  and 
yearning  pity. 

**  Yolande,"  said  he — and  the  tones  of  his  voice  seemed 
to  reach  her  very  heart — "  I  have  faith  in  you.  I  shall  hear 
of  you.  Be  worthy  of  yourself.  Noftr,  God  bless  you,  and 
good-by  ! " 

"Adieu!  adieu!"  she  murmured;  and  then,  white- 
faced  and  all  trembling,  but  still  dry-eyed  and  erect,  she 
got  through  the  house  somehow,  and  out  to  the  front, 
where  Mrs.  Bell  was  awaiting  her  by  the  side  of  the  dog- 
cart. 

When  ehe  had  driven  away,  Mrs.  Bell  remained  for  a 
minute  or  two  looking  after  the  departing  vehicle — and 
perhaps  rather  regretfully,  too,  for  she  had  taken  a  great 
liking  to  this  bright  young  English  lady  who  had  come  into 
these  wilds ;  but  presently  she  was  recalled  from  her 
reveries  or  regrets  by  the  calling  of  Mr.  Melville.  She 
went  into  the  house  at  once. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Bell,"  said  he  (  and  he  seemed  in  an  un- 
usual hurry),  "  do  you  think  one  of  the  girls  could  hunt 
out  for  me  the  waterproof  coat  that  has  the  strap  attached  to 
it  for  slinging  over  the  shoulders?  And  I  suppose  she 
could  pack  me  some  bit  of  cold  meat,  or  something  of  the 
kind,  and  half  a  loaf,  in  a  little  parcel?  " 

"  Dear  me,  sir,  I  will  do  that  myseP ;  but  where  are  ye 
going,  sir,  if  I  may  ask?" 

The  fact  was  that  it  was  so  unusual  for  Jack  Melville 
to  take  any  precautions  of  this  kind — even  wlien  he  was 
starting  for  a  long  day's  fishing  on  some  distant  moorland 
loch — that  Mrs.  Bell  instanty  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  bent  on  some  very  desperate  excursion. 

"Where  am  I  going? "he  j?aid.  "Why,  across  the 
hills  to  Kingussie,  to  catch  the  night  train  to  London." 


YOLANDE. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ttDIB,  O  8TILLE8  THAL,  GRUSS  ZUM  LETZTENMAL  !  " 

THE  train  roared  and  jingled  through  the  long  black 
night;  and  always  before  her  shut  but  sleepless  eyes  rose 
vision  after  vision  of  that  which  she  was  leaving  forever  be- 
hind— her  girlhood.  So  quiet  and  beautiful,  so  rich  in  af- 
fection and  kindness,  that  appeared  to  her  now  ;  she  could 
scarce  believe  that  it  was  herself  she  saw,  in  those  recurrent 
scenes,  so  glad  and  joyous  and  light-hearted.  That  was  all 
over.  Already  it  seemed  far  away.  She  beheld  herself 
walking  with  her  father  along  the  still  valley,  in  the  moon- 
light ;  or  out  on  the  blue  waters  of  the  loch,  with  the  suu 
hot  on  the  gunwale  of  the  boat ;  or  away  up  on  the  lonely 
hillsides,  where  the  neighborhood  of  the  watercourses  was 
marked  by  a  wandering  blaze  of  gold — widespread  masses 
of  the  yellow  saxifrage ;  or  seated  at  the  head  of  the  dinner 
table,  with  her  friends  laughing  and  talking;  and  all  that 
life  was  grown  distant  now.  She  was  as  one  expelled  from 
paradise.  And  sometimes,  in  spite  of  herself,  in  spite  of 
all  her  wise  and  firm  resolves,  her  heart  would  utter  to  itself 
a  sort  of  cry  of  despair.  Why  did  he  refuse  her  that  bit  of 
a  flower  to  take  away  with  her?  It  was  so  small  a  thing. 
And  then  she  thought  of  the  look  in  his  eyes  as  he  regarded 
her ;  of  the  great  pity  and  tenderness  shining  there ;  and 
of  the  words  of  courage  and  hope  that  he  had  spoken  to  her 
as  she  left.  Well  she  would  show  herself  worthy  of  his  faith  in 
her.  She  would  force  away  from  her  those  idle  regrets  over  a 
too-beautiful  past.  A  new  life  was  opening  before  her ;  she 
was  content  to  accept  whatever  it  might  bring.  Who 
could  grudge  to  her  this  long,  last  review  of  the  life  she 
\v  is  leaving  forever  ?  Farewell — farewell !  She  was.  not 
e\L-n  carrying  away  with  her  a  bit  of  a  leaf  or  a  blossom,  to 
Awaken  memories,  in  the  after-time,  of  the  garden  in  which 
she  had  so  often  stood  in  the  white  clear  air,  with  the  sun- 
light all  around  her.  Well,  it  was  better  so.  And  perhaps 
in  the  new  life  that  she  was  entering  she  would  find  such 
duties  and  occupations  as  would  effectually  prevent  the  re- 
currence of  this  long  night's  torture — this  vi&: on-building 


286  YOLANDR. 

out  of  the  past,  this  inexplicable  yearning,  this  vain  stretch- 
ing out  of  the  hands  to  that  she  was  leaving  forever. 

Toward  morning  she  slept  a  little,  but  not  much  ;  how- 
ever,  on  the  first  occasion  of  her  opening  her  eyes,  she  found 
that  the  gray  light  of  the  new  day  was  around  her.  For 
an  instant  a  shock  of  fear  overcame  her — a  sudden  sense  of 
helplessness  and  affright.  She  was  so  strangely  situated  ; 
she  was  drawing  near  the  great,  dread  city;  she  knew  not 
what  lay  before  her;  and  she  felt  so  much  alone.  Despite 
herself,  tears  began  to  trickle  down  her  face,  and  her  lips 
were  tremulous.  This  new  day  seemed  terrible,  and  she 
was  helpless — and  alone. 

"  Dear  me,  Miss,"  said  Jane,  happening  to  wake  up  at 
this  moment,  "  what  is  the  matter?" 

"It  is  nothing,"  her  young  mistress  said.  "I — I  have 
scarcely  slept  at  all  these  two  nights,  and  I  feel  rather  weak, 
and — and — not  very  well.  It  is  no  matter." 

But  the  tears  fell  faster  now,  and  this  sense  of  weakness 
and  helplessness  completely  overpowered  her.  She  fairly 
broke  down. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is, "  she  sobbed,  in  a  kind  of 
recklessness  of  despair.  "  It  is  that  I  have  undertaken  to 
do  what  is  beyond  me.  I  am  not  fit  for  it.  They  have 
asked  too  much  of  me.  It  is  beyond  what  I  can  do. 
What  can  I  do  ? — when  I  feel  that  I  should  be  happy  if  I 
could  only  lie  down  and  die,  and  be  the  cause  of  no  more 
trouble  to  any  one !" 

The  maid  was  very  much  startled  by  these  words,  though 
she  little  guessed  the  cause  of  them.  And  indeed  her  young 
mistress  very  speedily — and  by  a  force  of  will  that  she  did 
not  suspect  herself  of  possessing — put  an  end  to  this  half- 
hysterical  fit.  She  drew  herself  up  erect,  she  dried  her 
eyes'  and  she  told  Jane  that  as  soon  as  they  got  to  the  hotel 
she  would  go  to  bed  for  an  hour  or  two  and  try  to  get  some 
sleep  ;  for  that  really  this  long  fit  of  wakefulness  had  filled 
her  head  with  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  fancies. 

And  that  was  the  last  sign  of  weakness.  Pale  her  face 
might  be,  as  she  set  about  the  undertaking  of  this  duty ; 
but  she  had  steeled  her  heart.  Fortunately,  when  they  got 
to  the  hotel,  and  when  she  had  had  some  breakfast,  she  was 
able  to  snatch  an  hour  or  two's  sound  and  refreshing  sleep 
in  the  silence  of  her  own  room  ;  and  when  she  re-appeared 
even  the  dull-witted  Jane  noticed  how  much  better  and 
brisker  she  looked.  Nay,  there  was  even  a  kind  of  hope- 


YOLANDE.  287 


fulness  and  cheerfulness  in  the  way  she  set  about 
her  preparations.  And  first  of  all  she  told  Jane  fully  and 
frankly  of  the  errand  on  which  she  had  come  to  London  ; 
and  this,  as  it  turned  out,  was  a  wise  thing  to  do  ;  for  the 
good  Jane  regarded  the  whole  situation,  and  her  probable 
share  in  the  adventure,  with  a  stolid  self-sufficiency  which 
was  as  good  as  any  courage.  Oh,  she  said,  she  was  not  afraid 
of  such  people  !  Probably  she  knew  better  how  to  manage 
them  than  a  young  lady  would.  They  wouldn't  frighten 
her!  And  she  not  obscurely  .hinted  that,  if  there  was  any 
kind  of  incivility  going  on  she  was  quite  capable  of  giving 
as  good  as  she  got. 

Yolandc  had  resolved,  among  other  things,  that,  while 
she  would  implicitly  obey  Mr.  Melville's  instructions  about 
making  that  appeal  to  her  mother  entirely  unaided  and  un- 
accompanied, she  might  also  prudently  follow  her  father's 
advice  and  get  such  help  as  was  necessary,  with  regard  to 
preliminary  arrangements,  from  his  solicitors,  more  espe- 
cially as  she  had  met  one  of  those  gentlemen  two  or  three 
times,  and  so  far  was  on  friendly  terms  with  him.  Accord- 
ingly, one  of  the  first  things  she  did  was  to  get  into  a  cab, 
accompanied  by  her  maid,  and  drive  to  the  offices  of  Law- 
rence &  Lang,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  She  asked  for  Mr. 
Lang,  and  by  and  by  was  shown  into  that  gentleman's  room. 
He  was  a  tall,  elderly  person,  with  white  hair,  a  shrewd, 
thin  face,  and  humorous,  good-natured  snile. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  said  he.  "  Very 
lucky  you  came  now.  In  another  ten  minutes  I  should 
have  been  off  to  seek  you  at  the  -  Hotel,  and  we 
should  have  crossed  each  other." 

"But  how  did  you  know  I  was  at  the  -  Hotel!  "  she 
said,  with  a  stare  of  astonishment. 

"Oh,  we  lawyers  are  supposed  to  know  everything,"  he 
answered,  good-naturedly.  "  And  I  may  tell  you  that  I 
know  of  the  business  that  has  brought  you  to  London,  and 
that  we  shall  be  most  happy  to  give  you  all  the  assistance 
in  our  power." 

"  But  how  can  you  know!"  the  girl  said,  bewildered. 
u  It  was  only  the  day  before  yesterday  1  decided  to  go,  and 
it  was  only  this  morning  I  reached  London.  Did  my  papa 
write  to  you,  then,  witho  it  telling  me!" 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  if  I  were  to  answer  your  questions 
you  would  no  longer  believe  in  the  omniscience  of  lawyers," 
ne  Baid,  with  his  grave  smile.  "  No,  no  ;  you  must  assume 


288  YOLAXDE. 

that  we  know  everything.  And  let  me  tell  you  that  the 
step  you  are  taking,  though  it  is  a  bold  one,  deserves  to  be 
successful ;  perhaps  it  will  be  successful  because  it  is  a  bold 
one.  I  hope  so.  But  you  must  be  prepared  for  a  shock. 
Your  mother  has  been  ill." 

*'  Ah?  "  said  Yolande,  but  no  more.  She  held  her  hands 
clasped. 

"  I  say  she  has  been  ill,"  said  this  elderly  suave  person, 
who  seemed  to  regard  the  girl  with  a  very  kindly  interest 
"  Now  she  is  better.  Three  weeks  ago  my  clerk  found  hor 
nimble  to  sign  the  receipt  that  he  usually  brings  away 
with  him  ;  and  I  was  about  to  write  to  your  father,  when 
I  thought  I  would  wait  a  day  or  two  and  see  ;  and  fortu- 
nately she  got  a  little  better.  However,  you  must  be  pre- 
pared to  find  her  looking  ill ;  and — and — well,  I  was  going 
to  say  she  might  be  incapable  of  recognizing  you ;  but  I 
forgot.  In  the  meantime  we  shall  be  pleased  to  be  of  every 
assistance  to  you  in  our  power;  in  fact,  we  have  been  in- 
structed to  consider  you  as  under  our  protection.  I  hope  you 
find  the Hotel  comfortable  !  " 

"  Oh  yes — oh  yes,"  Yolande  said,  absently ;  she  was  not 
thinking  of  any  hotel ;  she  was  thinking  in  what  way  these 
people  could  be  of  help  to  her. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  when  you  go  to  see  your  mother, 
I  could  send  some  one  with  you  if  you  wished  it ;  or  I  would 
go  with  you  myself,  for  that  matter ;  but  I  understand  that 
is  not  considered  desirable." 

"  Oh  no,  "  said  she  ;  "  I  must  go  alone.  I  wish  to  see 
her  alone." 

"  As  for  your  personal  safety,"  said  he,  "  that  need  not 
alarm  you.  Your  friends  may  be  anxious  about  you,  no 
doubt ;  but  the  very  worst  that  can  happen  will  be  a  little 
impertinence.  You  won't  mind  that  I  shall  have  a  policeman 
in  plain  clothes  standing  by ;  if  your  maid  should  consider 
it  necessary,  slie  can  easily  summon  him  to  you.  She  will  be 
inside  ;  he  outside;  so  you  have  nothing  to  fear." 

"  Then  you  know  all  how  it  has  been  arranged  !  "  she  ex 
churned. 

"  Why,  yes ;  it  is  our  business  here  to  know  every- 
thing," said  he,  laughing,  "  though  we  are  not  allowed 
sometimes  to  say  how  we  came  by  the  information.  Now 
what  else  can  we  do  for  you  ?  Let  me  see.  If  your  poor 
mother  will  go  with  you,  you  might  wish  to  take  her  to 
Eome  quiet  seaside  place,  perhaps,  for  her  health  ?  " 


YOLANDE.  289 

"  Oh  yes  ;  I  wish  to  take  her  away  from  London  at  once," 
Yolande  said,  eagerly. 

"  Well,  a  client  of  ours  has  just  left  some  lodgings  at 
Worthing — in  fact,  we  have  recommended  them  on  one  or 
two  occasions,  and  we  have  been  told  that  they  gave  sat- 
isfaction. The  rooms  are  clean  and  nicely  furnished,  and 
the  landlady  is  civil  and  obliging.  She  is  a  gentle- 
woman, in  short,  in  reduced  circumstances  but  not  over- 
reaching. I  think  you  might  safely  take  the  rooms." 

"  Will  you  give  me  the  address,  if  you  please  ?  " 

He  wrote  the  address  on  a  card  and  gave  it  to  her. 

"  But  d^  not  trouble  to  write,"  said,  he  ;  "  we  will  do 
that  for  you,  and  arrange  terms." 

"But  1  must  go  down  to  see  the  place  first,"  said  she. 
"  I  can  go  there  and  get  back  in  one  day — to-morrow — 
can  I  not  ?  " 

44  But  why  should  you  give  yourself  so  much  trouble  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  What  a  daughter  can  do  for  her  own  mother,  that  is 
not  called  trouble,"  she  answered,  simply.  "  Is  Worthing 
a  large  town  ?  " 

"  No  ;  not  a  large  town.  It  is  one  of  the  smaller  water- 
ing-places." 

44  But  one  could  hire  there  a  pony  and  a  pony-chaise  ?  " 

44  Undoubtedly." 

'4  And  could  one  take  the  rooms  and  hire  the  pony  and 
pony-chaise  conditionally  ?" 

44 1  don't  quite  understand  you." 

44  Could  one  say,  *  Yes,  1  shall  want  these  most  likely  ; 
but  if  I  telegraph  to  you  to-morrow  or  next  day  that  I  do 
not  want  them,  then  there  is  no  bargain,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  pay  ?  " 

44 1  have  no  doubt  they  would  make  that  arrangement 
with  you.  That  would  be  merely  reserving  the  refusal  for 
you  for  a  certain  number  of  days." 

44  Two  days  at  the  most,"  said  Yolande,  who  seemed  to 
have  studied  this  matter — even  as  she  used  to  study  the  do- 
tails  of  her  future  housekeeping  at  Allt-nam-Ba  when  she 
was  sitting  on  the  deck  of  the  great  steamer  with  the  Med 
iterranean  Sea  around  her. 

44  May  I  presume  to  ask,"  said  he,  "  whether  you  are  suffi- 
ciently supplied  with  money  ?  We  have  no  instructions 
from  your  father  ;  but  \ve  shall  be  pleased  if  you  consider 
us  your  bankers."' 


290  YOLANDE. 

"  I  have  only  eight  or  nine  pounds,"  said  she,  "  in 
money  ;  but  also  I  have  three  blank  checks  which  my  papa 
signed  :  that  is  enough,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  I  should  say  that  was  enough,"  he  re- 
marked, with  a  perfectly  subdued  irony.  "  But  those  blank 
checks  are  dangerous  things,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say 
so.  I  would  strongly  advise  you,  my  dear  Miss  Winter- 
bourne,  to  destroy  them,  and  to  send  to  us  for  such  sums 
as  you  may  want  from  time  to  time.  That  would  be  much 
the*  safer  plan.  And  if  there  is  any  other  particular  in 
which  we  can  be  of  the  least  assistance  to  you,  you  will 
please  let  us  know.  We  can  always  send  some  one  to  you, 
and  a  telegram  from  Worthing  only  costs  a  shilling.  As  we 
have  received  such  strict  injunctions  about  looking  after 
you,  we  must  keep  up  our  character  as  your  guardian." 

"  I  thought  you  said  my  papa  had  not  sent  you  any 
instructions,"  Yoland  exclaimed  again. 

"  About  the  check,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  he 
promptly. 

"  Then  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  something  of  those  people 
— I  wish  to  know  who  and  what  they  are." 

"  I  think  Miss  Winterbourne,"said  he,  gravely,  "that  the 
information  would  not  edify  you  much." 

"  But  I  wish  to  know,"  said  she  ;  "  I  wish  to  know  the 
sort  of  people  one  must  expect  to  find  there." 

"  The  facts  are  simple,  then.  He  is  a  drunken  scoundrel, 
to  put  the  matter  shortly.  I  believe  he  once  in  a  fairly 
good  position — I  rather  think  he  was  called  to  the  Bar  ;  but 
he  never  practised.  Betting  on  races,  and  drink,  finished 
him  between  them.  Then  he  tried  to  float  a  bit  by  marrying 
the  proprietress  of  a  public-house — an  illiterate  woman  :  but 
he  drank  through  her  money,  and  the  public-house,  and 
everything.  Now  they  are  supposed  to  let  out  this  house 
in  rooms  ;  but  as  that  would  involve  trouble,  my  own  im- 
pression is  they  have,  no  lodgers  but  your  mother,  and  are 
content  to  live  on  the  very  ample  allowance  that  we  are 
instructed  to  pay  her  monthly.  Well,  no  doubt  they  will 
be  very  angry  if  you  succeed  in  taking  away  from  them 
their  source  of  'ncome  ;  and  the  man,  if  he  is  drunk,  may 
be  impertinent ,  but  that  is  all  you  have  to  fear.  I  would 
strongly  advise  you  to  go  in  the  evening.  Then  the 
presence  of  the  policeman  in  the  street  will  not  arouse  sus- 
picion ;  and  if  there  should  be  any  trifling  disturbance,  it 
will  b<5  less  likelv  to  attract  the  notice  of  bystanders. 


YOLANDE.  291 

Might  1  ask — please  forgive  me  if  I  nm  impertinent" — lie 
said,  "  but  I  h:ive  known  all  about  this  sad  story  from  the 
beginning,  and  I  am  naturally  curious — may  I  ask  whether 
the  idea  of  your  going  to  your  mother,  alone,  and  taking 
her  away  with  you,  alone,  was  a  suggestion  of  your 
father's  ?"" 

"  It  was  not,  "  said  she,  with  downcast  eyes.  "  It  was  the 
suggestion  of  a  friend  whose  acquaintanceship — whose 
friendship — we  made  in  the  Highlands — a  Mr.  Melville." 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  and  he  glanced  at  a  card  that  was  lying 
before  him  on  the  table.  "  It  is  bold — bold,"  he  added, 
musingly.  "  One  thing  is  certain,  everything  else  has  failed. 
My  dear  young  lady,  I  am  afraid,  however  successful  you 
may  be,your  life  for  sometime  to  come  will  not  be  as  happy 
and  cheerful  as  one  could  wish  for  one  of  your  age." 

u  That  1  am  not  particular  about, "  said  Yolande  ab- 
sently. 

"  However,  in  a  matter  of  this  kind,  it  is  not  my  place 
to  advise:  I  am  a  servant  only.  You  are  going  down  to 
Worthing  to-morrow.  I  will  give  you  a  list  of  trains  there 
and  back,  to  save  you  the  trouble  of  hunting  through  a  time- 
table. You  will  be  l>ack  in  the  evening.  Now  do  you 
think  it  desirable  that  I  should  get  this  man  whom  I  mean 
to  employ  in  your  service  to  hang  about  the  neighborhood 
of  the  house  to-morrow,  just  to  get  some  notion  of  the 
comings  and  goings  of  the  people  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  most  desirable,"  Yolande  said. 

"  Very  well ;  it  shall  be  done.  Let  me  see  :  this  is 
Thursday;  to-morrow  you  go  to  Worthing.  Could  you 
call  here  on  Saturday  to  hear  what  the  man  has  to  say,  or 
shall  he  wait  on  you  at  the Hotel  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  call  here,"  she  said. 

"  Very  well ;  and  what  hour  would  be  most  conve- 
nient?" 

"Ten— is  it  too  soon?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  he,  jotting  down  a  memorandum  on 
a  diary  before  him.  "Now  one  thing  more.  Will  you 
oblige  me  by  burning  those  checks  ?  I  will  write  to  your 
father,  and  take  the  responsibility." 

"  If  you  think  it  right  I  will,"  she  said,  "  as  soon  as  I  go 
back  to  the  hotel." 

"And  here"  he  continued  going  to  a  safe  and  fetching 
out  some  Bank  of  England  notes,  "  is  £25  in  £5  notes  ;  it  is 
not  so  serious  a  matter  if  one  of  these  should  go  astray, 


292  YOLANDE. 

Please  put  these  in  your  purse,  Miss  Winterbourne ;  and 
when  you  want  any  further  sums  you  have  only  to  write 
to  us." 

She  thanked  him,  and  rose,  and  bade  him  good-by. 

"  Good-by  JVJiss  Winterbourne,"  said  he,  in  a  very 
friendly  way  ;  "  and  please  to  remember  that  although,  of 
course,  all  the  resources  of  our  firm  are  at  your  disposal  as 
a  matter  of  business,  still  I  hope  you  may  count  on  us  for 
something  more  than  that,  if  there  is  any  way  we  can  help 
you — I  mean  in  a  private  and  personal  way.  If  any  such  oc- 
casion should  arise,  please  remember  that  your  father  and  I 
were  friends  together  in  Slagpool  five  and  thirty  years  ago, 
and  anything  that  I  can  do  for  his  daughter  will  be  a  great 
pleasure  to  me." 

As  she  left  she  thought  that  London  did  not  seem  to  be, 
after  all,  such  a  terrible  place  to  be  alone  in.  Here  was 
protection,  guardianship,  friendship,  and  assistance  put  all 
around  her  at  the  very  outset.  There  were  no  more  qualms 
or  sinkings  of  the  heart  now.  When  she  got  outside  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  she  would  like  to  go  away  in 
search  of  the  street  in  which  her  mother  lived,  and  rec- 
onnoitre the  house.  Might  there  not  be  some  chance  of  her 
coming  out  ? — the  day  was  fairly  fine  for  London.  And 
how  strange  to  see  her  mother  walking  before  hej\  She 
felt  sure  she  should  recognize  her.  And  then — perhaps — 
what  if  one  were  suddenly  to  discard  all  preparations  ?  what 
if  she  were  to  be  quickly  caught,  and  carried  off,  aud  trans- 
ferred to  the  safety  of  the Hotel,  before  any  one  could 

interfere  ? 

But  when  she  had  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive  to  Ox- 
ford Circus,  and  got  into  the  cab,  along  with  Jane,  she 
firmly  put  away  from  her  all  these  wild  possibilities.  This 
undertaking  was  too  serious  a  matter  to  be  imperiled  by 
any  rashness.  She  might  look  at  the  street,  at  the  house  at 
the  windows;  but  not  if  her  mother  were  to  come  out  and 
pass  her  by  touching  her  skirt  even,  would  she  declare  her- 
self. She  was  determined  to  be  worthy  of  the  trust  that 
had  been  placed  in  her. 

At  Oxford  Circus  they  dismissed  the  cab,  and  walked 
some  short  distance  until  they  found  the  place  they  were  in 
search  of  —a  dull,  respectable-looking,  quiet,  misty  little 
thoroughfare,  1)  ing  just  back  from  the  continuous  roar  of 
Oxford  Street.  She  passed  the  house  once  or  twice,  too, 
knowins  it  bv  its  number,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  life  in 


YOLANDE.  203 

it.  The  small,  curtained  windows  showed  no  one  sitting 
there  or  looking  out.  She  waited ;  went  to  distant  points, 
and  watched ;  but  save  for  an  occasional  butcher's  boy  or 
postman  the  street  remained  uniformly  empty.  Then  she 
remembered  that  it  was  drawing  towards  the  afternoon,  and 
that  poor. lane  was  probably  starving;  so  she  called  another 
cab,  and  drove  to  the  hotel. 

Next  day  was  a  busy  day — after  that  life  of  quietude  far 
away  among  the  hills.  She  got  to  Worthing  about  twelve, 
and  went  straight  to  the  lodgings  that  had  been  recom- 
mended by  Mr.  Lang,  which  she  found  in  one  of  the  bright 
and  cheerful-looking  terraces  fronting  the  sea.  She  was 
much  pleased  with  the  rooms,  which  were  on  the  first  floor, 
the  sitting-room  opening  on  to  a  balcony  prettily  decorated 
with  flowers ;  and  she  also  took  rather  a  fancy  to  the  little 
old  lady  herself,  who  was  at  first  rather  anxious  and  nerv- 
ous, but  who  grew  more  friendly  under  the  influence  of  Yo- 
lande's  calm  and  patronizing  gentleness.  Under  the  con- 
ditions mentioned  to  Mr.  Lang  she  took  the  rooms,  and 
gave  her  name  and  address  "and  her  father's  name  and  ad- 
dress, adding,  with  the  smallest  touch  of  pride. 
"  Of  course  you  know  him  by  reputation." 
"  Oh  yes,  indeed,"  somewhat  vaguely  said  this  timid, 
pretty  little  old  lady,  who  was  the  widow  of  a  clergyman, 
and  whose  sole  and  whole  notion  of  politics  was  that  the 
Radicals  and  other  evil-disposed  persons  of  that  kind  were 
plotting  the  destruction  of  the  Church  of  England,  which 
to  her  meant  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  swallowing 
up  ef  the  visible  universe.  "  He  is  in  Parliament,  is  he 
not?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Yolande  ;  "  and  some  people  wish  he  were 
not  there.  He  is  a  little  too  honest  and  outspoken  for 
.them." 

Next  she  went  to  a  livery-stable  keeper,  and  asked 
about  his  terms  for  the  hire  of  a  pony  and  pony-carriage. 
These  terms  seemed  to  her  reasonable  but  they  were  not ; 
for  she  was  judging  them  by  the  Inverness  standard,  where- 
as that  standard  is  abnormally  high,  for  the  reason  that  the 
Inverness  livery-stable  keepers  have  demands  made  on 
them  for  only  two  or,  at  most,  three  months  in  the  year, 
and  are  quite  content,  for  the  other  nine  months,  to  lend 
out  their  large  stock  of  horses  for  nothing  to  any  of  the 
neighboring  lairds  or  farmers  who  will  take  them  and  feed 
them.  However,  the  matter  was  not  a  serious  one. 


294  YOLAXDE. 

The  next  morning  site  called  at  the  office  of  Messrs. 
Lawrence  &  Lang,  heard  what  the  man  who  had  been 
posted  in  that  little  thoroughfare  had  to  say,  and  arranged 
that  she  should  go  alone  to  the  house  that  evening  at  eight 
o'clock.  She  had  no  longer  in  her  eyes  the  pretty  timidity 
and  bashftilness  of  a  child  ;  she  bore  herself  with  the  de- 
meanor of  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

AN   ABDUCTION. 

A  FEW  minutes  before  eight  on  that  evening,  in  the 
thoroughfare  just  mentioned,  a  short,  thickset  man  was 
standing  by  a  lamp-post,  either  trying  to  read,  or  pretending 
to  read,  an  evening  newspaper  by  the  dull,  yellow  light. 
Presently  a  hansom  cab  drove  up  to  the  corner  of  the 
street  and  stopped  there,  and  a  taller  and  younger  man  got 
out  and  came  along  to  the  lamp-post. 

'*  I  would  go  a  dozen  yards  nearer,"  said  the  new- 
comer. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  other.  And  then  he  added, 
"  The  master  of  the  house  has  just  gone  out  sir." 

c<  So  much  the  better,"  said  the  younger  man,  carelessly. 
44  There  will  be  the  less  bother — probably  none  at  all.  But 
you  keep  a  little  bit  nearer  after  the  young  lady  has  gone  in- 
to the  house." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

The  new-coiner  apparently  did  not  consider  that  any 
great  vigilance  or  surveillance  would  be  necessary,  but  all 
the  same,  while  he  still  left  the  hansom  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  he  walked  along  a  few  yards  further  (glancing  in 
passing  at  the  windows  of  one  of  the  houses),  until  he  came 
to  a  narrow  entry  leading  down  into  a  courtyard,  and  there 
a  step  or  two  into  the  gloom  of  the  little  passage  effectually 
hid  him  from  sight. 

Punctually  at  eight  o'clock  a  four-wheeled  cab  appeared 
and  drew  up,  and  Yolande  got  out,  followed  by  her  maid. 
Without  delay  or  hesitation  she  crossed  the  pavement  and 
knocked  at  the  door.  A  girl  of  about  fifteen  opened  it. 


YO  LANDS.  295 

**  Is  Mrs.  Wintcrbourne  within?*'  said  Yolandc,  calmly. 

The  girl  eyed  her  doubtfully. "   "  Y — yes,  miss." 

"  I  wish  to  see  her,  if  you  please." 

"  Y — yes,  miss  ;  if  you  wait  for  a  moment  I'll  go  and 
tell  missis." 

"  No,"  said  Yolande,  promptly  and  she  passed  into  the 
lobby  without  further  ado — "  no,  I  will  not  trouble  your 
mistress.  Please  show  me  where  I  shall  find  Mrs.  Winter- 
bourne;  that  is  enough." 

Now  the  girl  looked  frightened,  for  the  two  strangers 
were  inside,  and  she  glanced  behind  her  to  see  whether  her 
mistress  were  not  coining  to  her  relief.  Moreover,  this  tall 
young  lady  had  an  imperious  way  with  her? 

"  Which  is  her  room  ?  " 

"  T — that  is  her  sitting-room,"  stammered  the  girl.  In- 
deed, they  were  all  standing  just  outside  the  door  of  it. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  she  put  her  hand  on  the 
handle  of  the  door.  "  Jane,  wait  for  me."  The  next  moment 
she  was  inside  the  room,  and  the  door  shut  behind  her. 

A  spasm  of  fear  caught  her  and  "struck  her  motionless. 
Some  one  sat  there — some  one  in  a  chair — idly  looking  into 
the  fire,  a  newspaper  flung  aside.  And  what  horror  might 
not  have  to  be  encountered  now  !  She  had  been  warned ; 
she  had  prepared  herself  ;  but  still — 

Then  the  next  moment  a  great  flood  of  pity  and  joy  and 
gratitude  filled  her  heart  ;  for  the  face  that  was  turned  to 
her — that  regarded  her  with  a  mild  surprise — though  it  was 
emaciated  and  pallid,  was  not  unlovable ;  and  the  eyes 
were  large  and  strange  and  melancholy.  This  poor  lady 
rose,  and  with  a  gentle  courtesy  regarded  her  visitor,  and 
said, 

'*  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  did  not  hear  you  come  into  the 
room." 

What  a  strange  voice — hollow  and  distant  ;  and  it  was 
clear  that  she  was  looking  at  this  new-comer  only  with  a 
vague,  half-pleased  curiosity,  not  with  any  natural  wonder 
at  such  an  intrusion.  Yolande  could  not  speak.  She  for- 
got all  that  she  had  meant  to  say.  Her  heart  seemed  to  be 
choking  her. 

"  Mother,"  she  managed  to  say  at  length,  "  you  do  not 
know,  then,  that  I  am  your  daughter." 

"  My  Yolande!  "  she  said — and  she  retreated  a  step,  as 
if  in  fear.  "  You  are  not  my  Yolande — you  !  " 

She  regarded  her  apparently  with  some  strange  kind  of 


296  YOLANDE. 

dread — as  if  she  were  an  apparition.  There  was  no  wonder, 
or  joy,  or  sudden  impulse  of  affection. 

"You — you  cannot  be  my  Yolande — my  daughter  I" 

"  But  indeed  I  am,  mother,"  said  the  girl,  with  the  tears 
running  down  her  face  in  spite  of  herself.  "  Ah  !  it  is  cruel 
that  I  should  come  to  you  as  a  stranger — that  you  should 
have  no  word  of  kindness  for  me.  But  DO  matter.  We 
shall  soon  make  up  for  all  these  years.  Mother.  I  have  come 
to  take  you  away.  You  must  no  longer  be  here  alone.  You 
will  come  with  me,  will  you  not  !  " 

The  pale,  emaciated,  hollow-voiced  woman  came  nearer 
now,  and  took  Yolande's  hand  and,  regarded  her  with  a 
kind  of  vague,  pleased  curiosity  and  kindness. 

"  And  you  are  really  my  Yolande,  then  ?  How  tall  you 
are!  and  beautiful  too — like  an  angel.  When  I  have  thought 
of  you  it  was  not  like  this.  What  beautiful  beautiful  hair ! 
and  so  straight  you  have  grown,  and  tall !  So  they  have 
sent  you  to  me  at  last.  But  it  is  too  late  now — too  late." 

"  No,  no,  mother  it  is  not  too  late.  You  will  come 
away  with  me,  will  you  not — now — at  once?  " 

The  other  shook  her  head  sadly ;  and  yet  it  was  ob- 
vious that  she  was  taking  more  and  more  interest  in  her 
daughter — regarding  her  from  top  to  toe,  admiring  her 
dress  even,  and  all  the  time  holding  her  hand. 

"  Oh  no,  I  cannot  go  away  with  you,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
not  for  you  to  be  hampered  with  one  like  me.  I  am  con- 
tent. I  am  at  peace  here.  I  am  quite  happy  here.  You 
are  young,  rich,  beautiful ;  you  will  have  a  beautiful  life ; 
everything  beautiful  round  you.  It  is  so  strange  to  look  at 
you !  And  who  sent  you  ?  The  lawyers,  I  suppose. 
What  do  they  want  now?  Why  do  they  not  let  me 
alone?" 

She  let  the  girl's  hand  fall,  and  turned  away  dejectedly, 
and  sank  down  into  the  easy-chair  again  with  a  sigh.  But 
Yolande  was  mistress  of  herself  now.  She  went  forward, 
put  her  hand  upon  her  mother's  shoulder,  and  said,  firmly  : 

"  Mother,  I  will  not  allow  you  to  remain  here.  It  is  not 
a  fit  place  for  you.  I  have  come  to  take  you  away  myself ; 
the  lawyers  have  not  sent  me ;  they  want  nothing.  Dear 
mother,  do  make  up  your  mind  to  come  away  with  me — • 
now ! " 

Her  entreaty  was  urgent,  for  she  could  hear  distinctly 
that  there  were  some  "  high  words  "  being  bandied  in  the 


YOLAKDE.  297 

lobby,  and  she  wished  to  get  her  mother  away  without  any 
unseemly  squabble. 

44  Do,  mother !  Everything  is  ready.  You  and  I  will  gc 
away  together  to  Worthing,  and  the  sea  air  and  the  country 
drives  will  soon  make  you  well  again.  I  have  got  everything 
prepared  for  you — pretty  rooms  fronting  the  sea  ;  and  a 
balcony  where  you  can  sit  and  read  ;  and  I  have  a  pony- 
carriage  to  take  you  for  drives  through  the  lanes.  All ! 
now,  to  think  it  is  your  own  daughter  who  is  asking  you ! 
You  cannot  refuse!  You  cannot  refuse!" 

She  had  risen  again  and  taken  Yolande's  hand,  but  her 
look  was  hesitating,  and  bewildered. 

"They  will  be  angry,"  said  she,  timidly;  for  now  the 
dissension  without  was  clearly  audible. 

"  Who,  then  ?  "  said  Yolande,  proudly.  "  You  will  leave 
them  to  me,  mother;  I  am  not  afraid.  Ah  if  you  saw  how 
much  prettier  the  rooms  are  at  Worthing! — yes;  and  no 
longer  you  will  have  to  sit  alone  by  yourself  in  the  evening. 
Come,  mother ! " 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  aud  a  short,  stout,  red- 
faced  black-haired  woman  made  her  appearance.  It  was 
clear  that  the  altercation  with  Jane  had  not  improved  her 
temper. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  young  lady,"  said  she,  with  studied 
deference,  "  but  I  want  to  know  what  this  means." 

Yolande  turned  with  flashing  eyes. 

"Leave  the  room  !  " 

For  a  second  the  woman  was  cowed  by  her  manner ;  but 
the  next  moment  she  had  bridled  up  again. 

"  Leave  the  room,  indeed  !  Leave  the  room — in  my  own 
house !  Not  until  I'm  paid.  And  what's  more,  the  poor 
dear  lady  isn't  going  to  be  taken  away  against  her  will. 
She  knows  who  her  friends  are.  She  knows  whoh  iv-j 
looked  after  her  and  nursed  her.  She  sha'n't  be  forced 
away  from  the  house  against  her  will,  I  warrant  you." 

"  Leave  the  room  this  instant,  or  I  will  send  for  a  police- 
man!" Yolande  said;  and  she  had  drawn  herself  u  •  to 
her  full  height,  for  her  mother,  poor  creature,  was  timidly 
shrinking  behind  her. 

44  A  policeman  !  Hoity-toity !  "  said  the  other,  with  her 
little  black  eyes  sparkling.  "  You'd  better  have  no  police- 
man in  here.  It's  not  them  that  are  robbing  a  poor  woman 
that  should  call  for  a  policeman.  But  you  haven't  taken 
her  with  you  yet,  and  what's  more,  she  sha'n't  move  an  inch 
out  of  this  house  until  every  farthing  that's  owincf  *o  us  in 


298  YOLANDE. 

paid — tliat  she  sha'n't.  We're  not  going  to  bo  robbed  so 
long  as  there's  the  law.  Not  till  every  farthing  is  paid,  1 
warrant  you! — so  perhaps  you'll  let  the  poor  dear  lady 
alone,  and  leave  her  in  the  care  of  them  that  she  knows  to 
be  her  friends.  A  policeman,  indeed  1  Not  one  step  shall 
she  budge  until  every  farthing  of  her  debt  is  paid." 

Now  for  the  moment  Yolande  was  completely  discon 
certed.  It  was  a  point  she  had  not  foreseen  ;  it  was  a  point, 
therefore,  on  which  she  had  asked  no  counsel.  She  had 
been  assured  by  Mr.  Lang  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear  in 
talking  away  her  mother  from  this  house — that  she  was  act- 
ing strictly  within  her  legal  rights.  But  how  about  this 
question  of  debt  ?  Could  they  really  detain  her  ?  Out- 
wardly, however,  she  showed  no  symptom  of  this  sudden 
doubt.  She  said  to  the  woman,  with  perfect  calmness, — 

k<  Your  impertinence  will  be  of  little  use  to  you.  My 
mother  is  going  with  me  ;  I  am  her  guardian.  If  you  in- 
terfere with  me,  it  will  be  at  your  own  peril.  If  my  mother 
owes  you  anything,  it  will  be  paid." 

"  IIow  am  I  to  know  that?  Here  she  is,  and  here  she 
shall  remain  until  every  farthing  is  paid.  We  are  not  go- 
ing to  be  robbed  in  that  way." 

"I  tell  you  that  whatever  is  owing  to  you  will  be  paid," 
said  Yolande.  "  You  need  not  pretend  that  you  have  any 
fear  of  being  robbed  ;  you  know  you  will  be  paid.  And 
now  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  where  my  mother's  things  are. 
Which  is  her  bedroom  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you  whether  you  can  ride  the  high  horse  over 
me  ! "  said  the  woman,  with  her  eyes  glittering  with  anger. 
"  I'll  go  and  fetch  my  husband,  that  I  will."  And  the  next 
second  she  had  left  the  room  and  the  house  too,  running 
out  into  the  night  bareheaded. 

44  Now,  mother,"  said  Yolande,  quickly,  "  now  is  our 
chance  !  Where  are  your  things  ?  Oh,  you  must  not 
think  of  packing  anything;  we  will  send  for  what  you 
want  to-morrow.  But  do  you  really  owe  these  people  any. 
thing?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  her  mother,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  terrified  by  this  threat  on  the  part  of  the  woman. 

"  Well,  then,  where  is  your  hat  ? — where  is  your  shaw  i 
Where  is  your  room  ?  " 

Almost  mechanically  she  opened  the  folding-doors  that 
formed  one  side  of  the  apartment,  disclosing  beyond  a 
bedroom.  Yoland  preceded  her,  picking  up  the  things  she 
wanted  and  helped  her  to  put  them  on. 


YOI.ANDR.  290 

"  Come,  now,  mother  ;  we  will  get  away  before  they 
come  back.  Oh  yon  need  not  be  afraid.  Everything  is  ar- 
ranged for  you.  There  is  a  cab  waiting  for  us  outside.'7 

"  Who  is  in  it  ?  "  said  the  mother,  drawing  back  with  a 
gesture  of  fear. 

"  Why,  no  one  at  all,"  said  Yolande,  cheerfully.  "  But 
my  maid  is  just  outside,  in  the  passage.  Come  along, 
mother." 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  To  the  hotel  where"  I  am  staying,  to  be  sure.  Every- 
thing is  arranged  for  you  ;  we  are  to  have  supper  together 
— you  and  I — all  by  ourselves.  Will  that  please  you, 
mother  ?  " 

"  Wait  for  a  moment,  then." 

She  went  back  into  the  bedroom,  and  almost  instantly 
ro-appeared,  glancing  at  Yolande  with  a  quick,  furtive  look 
that  the  girl  did  not  understand.  She  understood  after. 

"  Come  then." 

She  took  her  mother  by  the  hand  and  led  her  as  if  she 
was  a  child.  In  the  lobby  they  encountered  Jane,  and 
Jane  was  angry. 

44  Another  minute,  miss,  and  I  would  have  turned  her 
out  by  the  shoulders,"  she  said,  savagely. 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  right,"  said  Yolande,  briskly.  "  Every- 
thing is  quite  right.  Open  the  door  Jane  there's  a  good 
girl." 

They  had  got  out  from  the  house,  and  were  indeed 
crossing  the  pavement,  when  the  landlady  again  made  her 
appearance,  coming  hurriedly  up  in  the  company  of  a  man 
who  looked  like  (what  he  was)  a  butler  out  of  employment, 
and  who  was  obviously  drunk.  He  began  to  hector  and 
bully.  He  interposed  himself  between  them  and  the  cab. 

"  You  ain't  going  away  like  this.  You  ain't  going  to 
rob  poor  people  like  this  !  You  come  back  into  the  house 
until  we  settle  this  affair." 

Now  Yolande's  only  aim  was  to  get  clear  of  the  man 
and  to  get  her  mother  put  into  the  cab  ;  but  he  stood  in  front 
of  her,  whichever  way  she  made  the  attempt ;  and  at  last 
he  put  his  hands  on  her  arm  to  force  her  back  to  the 
house.  It  was  an  unfortunate  thing  for  him  that  he  did  so. 
There  was  a  sudden  crash  ;  the  man  reeled  back,  staggered, 
and  then  fell  like  a  log  on  the  pavement  ;  and  Yolande, 
bewildered  by  the  instantaneous  nature  of  the  whole  occur- 
ence,  only  knew  that  something  like  a  black  shadow  had 


800  YOLAKDE. 

gone  swiftly  by.  All  this  appeared  to  have  happened  in  a 
moment,  and  in  that  same  moment  here  was  the  policeman 
in  plain  clothes,  whom  she  knew  by  sight. 

u  What  a  shame  to  strike  the  poor  man  !  "  said  he  to 
the  landlady,  who  was  on  her  knees  shrieking  by  the  side 
of  her  husband.  "  But  he  ain't  much  hurt,  mum.  I'll  help 
him  indoors,  mum.  I'm  a  constable,  I  am.  I  wish  I  knew 
who  done  that  ;  I'd  have  the  law  again  him." 

As  he  uttered  these  words  of  consolation  he  regarded 
the  prostrate  man  with  perfect  equanimity,  and  a  glance 
over  his  shoulder  informed  him  that  in  the  confusion  Yo- 
lande,  and  her  mother,  and  the  maid,  had  got  into  the  cab 
and  driven  off.  Then  he  proceeded  to  raise  the  stupefied 
ex-butler,  who  certainly  had  received  a  '*  facer,"  but  who 
presently  came  to  himself  as  near  as  the  fumes  of  ruin 
would  allow.  Nay,  he  helped,  or  rather  steadied,  the  man 
into  the  house,  and  assured  the  excited  landlady  that  the 
law  would  find  out  who  had  committed  this  outrage  ;  but 
he  refused  the  offer  of  a  glass  of  something  on  the  plea  that 
he  was  on  duty.  Then  he  took  down  the  number  of  the 
house  in  his  note-book,  and  left. 

As  he  walked  along  the  street  he  was  suddenly  accosted 
by  the  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  man  who  had  disap- 
peared into  the  narrow  entry. 

"  Why  weren't  you  up  in  time  !  "  said  the  latter,  angrily. 

"  Lor,  sir,  you  was  so  quick  !  " 

"  Is  that  drunken  idiot  hurt  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  he  may  'ave  a  black  eye  in  the  morning— 
maybe  a  pair  on  'em.  But  'tain't  no  matter.  He'll  think  he 
run  agin  a  lamp-post.  He's  as  drunk  as  drunk." 

"  What  was  the  row  about  ?    I  couldn't  hear  a  word." 

"  Why,  sir,  they  said  as  the  lady  owed  them  something." 

"  Oh,  that  was  the  dodge.  However,  it's  all  settled  now 
— very  well  settled.  Let  me  see,  I  suppose  Lawrence  &  Lang 
pay  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  you  know,  I  don't  think  you  did  your  best. 
You  weren't  sharp  enough.  When  you  saw  that  drunken 
brute  seize  hold  of  the  young  lady's  arm  you  should  have 
been  there — on  the  spot — on  the  instant — " 

"  Lor,  sir,  you  was  so  quick !  And  the  man  went  over 
like  a  ninepin." 

"  Well,  the  affair  is  satisfactory  as  it  stands,"  said  the 
younger  and  taller  man,  "  and  I  am  well  satisfied,  and  so  I 


YOLANDE  801 

suppose  you  don't  mind  my  adding  a  sovereign  to  what 
Lawrence  &  Lang  will  give  you." 

"  Thank  ye,  sir,"  said  the  man,  touching  his  cap. 

"  Here  you  are  then.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night,  sir." 

Then  the  younger  man  walked  on  to  the  corner  of  the 
street,  jumped  into  the  hansom  that  was  still  awaiting  him 
there,  called  through  the.  trap-door  to  the  driver.  "  United 
Universities,  corner  of  Suffolk  Street,  Pall  Mall,"  and  so 
was  driven  off. 

That  same  night  Yolaiide  wrote  the  following  letter  to 
her  father : — 

"  MY  DEAR  PAPA, — I  wish  that  I  might  write  this  letter 
in  French,  for  my  heart  is  so  full ;  but  I  know  you  would  not 
like  it,  so  I  will  do  my  best  in  English.  It  is  all  over  and 
settled  ;  my  mother  is  with  me — in  this  room  where  I  am 
writing — reading  a  little,  but  not  so  agitated  by  the  events 
of  the  day,  or  rather  this  evening,  that  one  might  expect. 
It  is  I  who  am  agitated:  please  forgive  my  errors.  But,  oh, 
it  was  the  saddest  thing  ever  seen  in  the  world,  for  a 
mother  to  be  standing  opposite  her  own  daughter,  and  not 
caring  for  her — not  knowing  her.  We  were  two  strangers. 
But  my  heart  was  glad.  I  had  had  the  apprehension  that 
I  should  have  to  overcome  emotions ;  that  it  might  be  only 
duty  that  would  keep  me  by  her  side ;  but  no,  no.  When  I 
saw  her  face,  and  her  gentle  eyes,  I  said  to  myself  how  easy 
would  be  the  task  of  loving  her  as  a  daughter  should. 
Dear  Papa,  she  is  so  ill ;  and  also  she  seems  so  far  away 
an.l  absorbed  and  sad.  She  is  only  a  little  interested  in 
me — only  a  little.  But  yet  I  think  she  is  pleased.  I  have 
shown  her  what  wardrobe  I  have  with  me,  and  that  pleased 
her  a  little ;  but  it  is  I  who  will  have  to  be  the  guardian,  and 
buy  things  for  her.  She  was  pleased  with  my  dressing-bag, 
and  to-morrow  I  am  going  to  buy  her  the  most  beautiful  one 
I  can  get  in  London.  Mr.  Lang  asked  me  to  burn  the  three 
blank  checks  you  gave  me,  and  I  did  that,  and  I  am  to  have 
money  from  him  ;  but  after  the  dressing-bag  I  hope  there 
will  not  be  much  expense ;  for  we  shall  be  living  quietly  at 
Worthing;  and  I  know  that  when  you  gave  Mrs.  Graham 
the  expensive  piece  of  broderie  at  Cairo  you  will  not  grudge 
me  that  I  give  my  mother  a  beautiful  dressing-bag 

*  It  has  all  happened  just  as  Mr.  Melville  planned.    How 
he  could  have  foreseen  so  much  I  cannot  tell ;  perhaps  it  is 


802  YOLANDE. 

that  I  followed  to  his  instructions  as  nearly  as  I  could 
The  people  were  insolent  somewhat;  but  to  me,  not  to  my 
mother  ;  so  that  is  right.  But  at  the  end,  when  we  were 
coming  away,  the  man  seized  me,  and  then  I  was  frightened 
— he  wished  me  to  go  back  into  the  house — and  then,  I  know 
not  how,  he  was  struck  and  fell ;  perhaps  by  the  policeman 
it  was,  but  I  did  not  stay  to  look.  I  hurried  my  mother 
into  the  cab,  and  we  are  here  safe  and  sound.  Poor  Jane 
is  so  angry.  She  demands  to  go  back  to-morrow  to  recover 
s<>: ne  things  of  my  mother's  and  also  that  she  wants  to  "  have 
it  out  "  with  the  woman  because  of  the  way  she  spoke  to  me  ; 
but  this  I  will  not  allow.  I  shall  write'  to  Messrs.  Law- 
rence &  Lang  to-night  to  send  some  one  ;  also  to  pay  what 
ever  is  owing. 

"  She  has  just  come  over  and  stroked  my  hair,  and  gone 
back  to  her  chair  again ;  I  think  she  is  a  little  more  affec- 
tionate to  me  now  ;  and  oh !  I  am  so  anxious  to  get  away 
to  the  sea-air,  that  it  may  wake  her  out  of  this  lethargy. 
I  know  it  will,  I  am  sure  of  it.  We  have  got  such  cheer- 
ful rooms !  The  address,  dear  papa,  is  Arbutus  Villa, 

Terrace,  Worthing  ;  please  give  it  to  Duncan,  and  tell 

him  to  send  me  each  week  a  brace  of  grouse,  a  brace  of 
black  game,  one  or  two  hares,  and  any  odd  ptarmigan  or 
snipe  you  may  get ;  then  I  will  know  that  they  are  good. 
To-night  we  had  supper  together ;  alas !  she  ate  scarcely 
anything.  I  asked  if  she  would  have  a  little  wine — no  ;  she 
seemed  to  have  a  horror  of  it ;  even  to  be  frightened.  She 
came  round  the  table  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  begged 
of  me  to  be  always  with  her.  I  said,  was  not  that  what 
I  had  come  for?  She  said,  with  such  a  strange  voice,  u  I 
need  help — I  need  help" ;  and  I  answered  that  now  every- 
thing was  to  be  reversed,  and  that  I  was  to  be  the  mother  to 
her,  and  to  take  charge  of  her.  Then  she  cried  a  little ;  but 
I  think  she  was  pleased  with  me ;  and  when  I  said  that  I 
wanted  to  write  a  letter,  after  we  had  finished,  she  said  she 
would  read  until  I  had  written  the  letter,  and  then  she 
wished  to  hear  where  I  had  been,  and  how  I  had  lived  in 
the  Highlands.  Perhaps  in  time  I  will  persuade  her  to  be 
affectionate  to  me ;  on  my  part  it  will  not  be  difficult  that  I 
should  soon  love  her,  for  she  is  gentle,  and  to  regard  her 
fills  one's  heart  with  pity.  I  had  great  terror  that  it  might 
not  be  so. 

"  To-morrow,  if  h  is  possible,  I  think  we  will  get  away 
to  Worthing.  I  am  anxious  to  begin  my  guardianship. 


YOLANDE.  808 

Perhaps  by  a  middle  day  train,  if  I  have  to  buy  some  things 
for  my  mother.  Or  why  not  there,  we  shall  have  plenty  of 
time  ?  I  wish  to  see  her  away  from  the  town — in  clear, 
brisk  air  ;  then  we  shall  have  the  long,  quiet,  beautiful  days 
to  become  acquainted  with  each  other.  It  is  so  strange,  is 
it  not,  a  mother  and  daughter  becoming  acquainted  with 
each  other  ?  But,  since  I  am  her  guardian,  I  must  not  let 
her  sit  up  too  late ;  and  so  good-night,  dear,  dear  papa,  from 
your  affectionate  daughter,  "  YOLAJTOE." 

That  was  naturally  the  end  of  the  letter,  and  yet  she  held 
it  open  before  her  for  some  time  in  hesitation.  And  then 
she  took  her  pen  and  added  :  "I cannot  tell  you  how  glad 
it  would  make  me  if  you  had  time  to  write  a  long  letter  to 
me  about  Allt-nam-Ba,  and  all  the  people  there  ;  for  one 
cannot  help  looking  back  to  the  place  where  one  has  been 
happy." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A   BEGINNING. 

DESPITE  all  her  hurrying,  however,  Yolande  did  not 
manage  to  get  away  from  London  on  the  day  following ;  it 
was  not  until  early  the  next  morning  that  she  and  her  mother 
and  the  maid  found  themselves  finally  in  the  train,  and  the 
great  city  left  behind  for  good.  The  weather  was  brilliant 
and  shining  around  them  ;  and  the  autumn-tinted  woods 
were  glorious  in  color.  To  these,  or  any  other  passing  ob- 
ject, Yolande,  in  her  capacity  of  guardian,  drew  cheerful  at- 
tention, treating  the  journey,  indeed,  as  a  very  ordinary 
every-day  affair ;  but  the  sad-eyed  mother  seemed  hardly 
capable  of  regarding  anything  but  her  daughter,  and  that 
sometimes  with  a  little  bit  of  stealthy  crying. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  in  those  strangely  hollow  tones,  "  it  is 
kind  of  you  to  come  and  let  me  see  you  for  a  little  while." 

"  A  little  while  ?  What  little  while,  then  ?  "  said  Yo 
lande,  with  a  stare." 

"  Until  I  go  back." 

"  Until  you  go  back  where,  mother  ?  " 


804  YOLANDE. 

"  Anywhere — away  from  you,"  said  the  mother,  regard- 
ing the  girl  with  an  affectionate  and  yet  wistful  look.  "It 
was  in  a  dream  that  I  came  away  from  the  house  with  you. 
You  seemed  calling  me  in  a  dream.  But  now  I  am  begin- 
ning to  wake.  At  the  station  there  were  two  ladies  ;  I  saw 
them  looking  at  us ;  and  I  knew  what  they  were  thinking. 
They  were  wondering  to  see  a  beautiful  young  life  like  yours 
linked  to  a  life  like  mine  ;  and  they  were  right.  I  could  see 
it  in  their  eyes." 

"  They  would  have  been  better  employed  in  minding 
their  own  business,"  said  Yolande,  angrily. 

"  No ;  they  were  right,"  said  her  mother,  calmly ;  and 
then  she  added,  with  a  curious  sort  of  smile :  "  But  I  am 
going  to  be  with  you  for  a  little  while.  I  am  not  going 
away  yet.  I  want  to  learn  all  about  you,  and  understand 
you ;  then  I  shall  know  what  to  think  when  I  hear  of  you. 
afterward.  You  will  have  a  happy  life  ;  I  shall  hear  of  you 
perhaps,  and  be  proud  and  glad  ;  I  shall  think  of  you  always 
as  young  and  happy  and  beautiful ;  and  when  you  go  back 
to  your  friends — " 

"  Dear  mother,  "  said  Yolande  ,c<  I  wish  you  would  not 
talk  nonsense.  When  I  go  back  to  my  friends  !  I  am  not 
going  back  to  any  friends  until  you  go  back  with  me :  do 
you  understand  that  ?  " 

"  I  ?"  said  she  ;  and  for  a  second  there  was  a  look  of 
fright  on  her  face.  Then  she  shook  her  head  sadly.  *'  No, 
no.  My  life  is  wrecked  and  done  for ;  yours  is  all  before  you 
— without  a  cloud,  without  a  shadow.  As  for  me,  I  am  con- 
tent. I  will  stay  with  you  a  little  while,  and  get  to  know 
you ;  then  I  will  go  away.  How  could  I  live  if  I  knew  that 
I  was  the  shadow  on  your  life  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  mother,  you  have  got  a  good  deal  to  learn 
about  me,"  said  Yolande,  serenely.  "  It  is  very  clear  that 
you  don't  know  what  a  temper  I  have,  or  you  would  not  be 
so  anxious  to  provoke  me  to  anger.  But  please  remem- 
ber that  it  isn't  what  you  want,  or  what  you  intend  to  do 
— it  is  what  I  may  be  disposed  to  allow  you  to  do.  I  have 
been  spoiled  all  my  life  ;  that  is  one  thing  you  will  have  to 
learn  about  me.  I  always  have  my  own  way.  You  will 
find  that  out  very  soon  ;  and  then  you  will  give  over  mak- 
ing foolish  plans  ;  or  thinking  that  it  is  for  you  to  decide. 
Do  you  think  I  have  stolen  you  away,  and  carried  you  into 
slavery,  to  let  you  do  as  you  please  ?  Not  at  all  ;  it  is  far 
from  that.  As  soo"  as  we  get  to  Worthing  I  am  going  to 


YOLANDE.  805 

get  a  prettier  bonnet  than  that — I  know  the  shop  perfectly ; 
I  saw  it  the  other  day.  But  do  you  think  I  will  permit  you 
to  choose  the  color?  No,  not  at  all — not  at  all.  And  as 
for  your  going  away,  or  going  back,  or  going  anywhere — oh 
we  will  see  about  that,  I  assure  you." 

For  the  time  being,  at  all  events,  the  mother  did  not 
protest.  She  seemed  more  and  more  fascinated  by  the  so- 
ciety of  her  daughter  ;  and  appeared  quite  absorbed  in  re- 
garding the  bright  young  fresh  face,  and  in  listening  with  Ji 
Kt  range  curiosity  for  the  slight  traces  of  a  foreign  accent 
that  remained  in  Yolande's  talking.  As  for  the  girl  herself 
she  bore  herself  in  the  most  matter  of  fact  way.  She  would 
have  no  sentiment  interfere.  And  always  it  was  assumed 
that  her  mother  was  merely  an  invalid  whom  the  sea  air 
would  restore  to  health  ;  not  a  word  was  said  as  to  the  cause 
of  her  present  condition. 

Worthing  looked  bright  and  cheerful  on  this  breezy  fore- 
noon. The  wind-swept  yellow-gray  sea  was  struck  a  gleam- 
ing silver  here  or  there  with  floods  of  sunlight ;  the  morning 
promenaders  had  not  yet  gone  in  to  lunch  ;  a  band  was  play- 
ing at  the  end  of  the  pier.  When  they  got  to  the  rooms, 
they  found  that  every  preparation  had  been  made  to  receive 
them  ;  and  in  the  bay-window  they  discovered  a  large  teles- 
cope which  the  little  old  lady  said  she  had  borrowed  from  a 
neighbor  whose  rooms  were  unlet.  Yolande  managed  ever- 
thiug — Jane  being  a  helpless  kind  of  creature — and  the 
mother  submitted  occasionally  with  a  touch  of  amusement 
appearing  in  her  manner.  But  usually  she  was  rather  sad, 
and  her  eyes  had  an  absent  look  in  them. 

"  Now  let  me  see,"  said  Yolande,  briskly,  as  they  sat  at 
lunch  (Jane  waiting  on  them).  "  There  is  really  so  much  to 
be  done  that  I  don't  known  where  we  should  begin.  Oh  yes, 
I  do.  First  we  will  walk  along  to  the  shops  and  buy  your 
bonnet.  Then  to  a  chemist's  for  some  scent  for  your  dress- 
ing-bags. Then  we  must  get  glass  dishes  for  flowers  for  the 
table — one  round  one  for  the  middle,  and  two  semicircles. 
Then  when  we  come  back  the  pony-carriage  must  be  wait- 
ing for  us  ;  and  we  we  will  give  you  a  few  minutes  to  put 
on  the  bonnet,  dear  mother  ;  and  then  we  will  go  away  for 
a  drive  into  the  country.  Perhaps  we  shall  get  some  wild 
flowers  ;  if  not  then  we  will  buy  some  when  we  comeback — " 

"  Why  should  you  give  yourself  so  much  trouble,  Yo- 
lande ?  "  her  mother  said. 


806  YOLANDB. 

"  Trouble?  It  is  no  trouble.  It  is  an  amusement — an 
occupation.  Without  an  occupation  how  can  one  live  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  so  full  of  life — so  full  of  life,"  the  mothef 
said,  regarding  her  wistfully. 

"  Oh,  1  assure  you,"  said  Yolande,  blithely  **  that  not 
many  know  what  can  be  made  of  wild  flowers  in  a  room — if 
you  have  plenty  of  them.  Not  all  mixed  ;  but  here  one 
mass  of  color;  and  there  another.  Imagine,  now  that  we 
were  thirty-three  miles  from  Inverness  ;  how  could  one  get 
flowers  except  by  going  up  the  hill-side  and  collecting  them  ? 
That  was  an  occupation  that  had  a  little  trouble,  to  be  sure ! 
— it  was  harder  work  than  going  to  buy  a  bonnet !  But 
sometimes  we  were  not  quite  dependent  on  the  wild  flowers; 
there  was  a  dear  good  woman  living  a  few  miles  away — ah, 
she  was  agood  friend  to  me  ! — who  used  to  send  me  from  her 
garden  far  more  than  was  right.  And  every  time  that  I 
passed,  another  handful  of  flowers  ;  more  than  that,  perhaps 
some  fresh  vegetables  all  nicely  packed  up ;  perhaps  a  little 
basket  of  new-laid  eggs  ;  perhaps  a  pair  of  ducklings — oh, 
such  kindness  as  was  quite  ridiculous  from  a  stranger.  And 
then  when  I  come  away,  she  goes  to  the  lodge,  and  takes 
one  of  the  girls  with  her,  to  see  that  all  is  right-;  and  no 
question  of  trouble  or  inconvenience ;  you  would  think  it 
was  you  who  were  making  the  obligation  and  giving  kind- 
ness, not  taking  it.  I  must  write  to  her  when  I  have  time. 
But  I  hope  soon  to  hear  how  they  are  all  going  on  up  there 
in  the  Highlands." 

"  Dear  Yolande,"  said  the  mother.  "  why  should  you 
occupy  yourself  about  me  ?  Do  your  writing ;  I  am  content 
to  sit  in  the  same  room.  Indeed,  I  would  rather  listen  to 
you  talking  about  the  Highlands  than  go  out  to  get  the  bon- 
net, or  anything  else." 

"  Why  do  1  occupy  myself  about  you  ?"  said  Yolande. 
"  Because  I  have  brought  you  here  to  make  you  well ;  that 
is  why.  And  you  must  be  as  much  as  possible  out-of-doors, 
especially  on  such  a  day  as  this,  when  the  air  is  from  the 
sea.  Ah,  we  shall  soon  make  you  forget  the  London  din- 
giness  and  the  smoke.  And  you  would  rather  not  go  for  a 
drive,  perhaps,  when  it  is  I  who  am  going  to  drive  you  ?  " 

Indeed,  she  took  the  mastership  into  her  own  hand  ;  and 
perhaps  that  was  a  fortunate  necessity ;  for  it  prevented 
her  thinking  over  certain  things  that  had  happened  to  her- 
self. Wise,  grave-eyed,  thoughtful,  and  prudent,  there  waa 
now  little  left  in  her  manner  or  speech  of  the  petulant  and 


YO LANDS.  807 

light-hearted  Yolande  of  other  days ;  and  yes  she  was  pleased 
to  see  that  her  mother  was  taking  more  and  more  interest 
in  her  :  and  perhaps  sometimes — though  she  strove  to  for- 
get the  past  altogether  and  only  to  keep  herself  busily  oc- 
cupied witli  the  present — there  was  some  vague  and  subtle 
sense  of  self-approval.  Or  was  it  self-approval  ?  Was  it 
not  rather  some  dim  kind  of  belief  that  if  he  who  had  ap- 
pealed to  her,  if  he  who  had  said  that  he  had  faith  in  her, 
could  now  see  her,  he  would  say  that  she  was  doing  well  ? 
But  she  tried  to  put  these  remembrances  away. 

An  odd  thing  happened  when  they  were  out.  They  had 
gone  to  the  shop  were  Yolande  had  seen  the  bonnets  ;  and 
she  was  so  satisfied  with  the  one  that  she  chose  that  she 
made  her  mother  put  it  on  then  and  there,  and  asked  the 
milliner  to  send  the  other  home.  Then  they  went  outside 
again  ;  and  not  far  off  was  a  chemist's  shop. 

"  Now,"  said  Yolande,  "  we  will  go  and  choose  two 
scents  for  the  bottles  in  the  dressing-bags.  One  shall  be 
white  rose  ;  and  the  other  ?  What  other  ?  " 

"  Whichever  you  like  best,  Yolande,"  said  her  mother, 
submissively,  her  daughter  had  become  so  completely  her 
guide  and  guardian. 

"  But  it  is  for  your  dressing-bag  mother,  not  mine,"  said 
Yolande.  "  You  must  choose.  You  must  come  into  the 
shop  and  choose." 

"  Very  well,  then." 

They  walked  to  the  shop  ;  and  Yolande  glanced  for  a 
minute  at  the  window,  and  then  went  inside.  But  the 
moment  they  had  got  within  the  door — parhaps  it  was  the 
odor  of  the  place  that  had  recalled  her  to  herself — the 
mother  shrank  back  with  a  strange  look  of  fear  on  her  face. 

"  Yolande,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  hurried  voice,  "  I  will 
wait  for  you  outside." 

"  But  which  is  to  be  the  other  scent  mother  ?  " 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  outside,"  said  she  with  her  hand 
touching  her  daughter's  arm.  "  I  will  wait  for  you  out- 
side." 

Then  Yolande  seemed  to  comprehend  what  that  dazed 
look  of  fear  meant ;  and  she  was  so  startled  that,  even  after 
her  mother  had  left,  she  could  scarce  summon  back  enough 
self-posession  to  tell  the  shopman  what  she  wanted.  There- 
after she  never  asked  her  mother  to  go  near  a  chemist's 
•hop. 

That  same  afternoon  they  went  for  a  drive  along  some 


808  YOLANDE. 

of  the  inland  country  lanes  ;  and  as  they  soon  found  that 
the  stolid,  fat,  and  placid  pony  could  safely  be  left  under 
the  charge  of  Jane,  they  got  out  whenever  they  had  a  mind, 
to  look  at  an  old  church,  or  to  explore  banks  and  hedgerows 
in  search  of  wild  flowers.  Now  this  idle  strolling,  with 
occasional  scrambling  across  ditche*,  was  light  enough  work 
for  one  who  was  accustomed  to  climb  the  hills  of  Allt-nam-Ba; 
but  no  doubt  it  was  fatiguing  enough  to  this  poor  woman, 
who,  nevertheless,  did  her  best  to  prove  herself  a  cheerful 
companion.  But  it  was  on  this  fatigue  that  Yolande  reck- 
oned. That  was  why  she  wanted  her  mother  to  be  out  all 
day  in  the  sea  air  and  the  country  air.  What  she  was  aim- 
ing at  was  a  certainty  of  sleep  for  this  invalid  of  whom  she 
was  in  charge.  And  so  she  cheered  her  on  to  further 
exertion ;  and  pretended  an  eagerness  in  this  search  for 
wild  flowers  which  was  not  very  real  (forever,  in  the  midst 
of  it,  some  stray  plants  here  or  there  would  remind  her 
of  a  herbarium  far  away,  and  of  other  days  and  other 
scenes),  until  at  last  she  thought  they  had  both  done  their 
duty,  and  so  they  got  into  the  little  carriage  again  and  drove 
back  to  Worthing. 

That  evening  at  dinner  she  amused  her  mother  with  a 
long  and  minute  account  of  the  voyage  to  Egypt,  and  of 
the  friends  who  had  gone  with  them,  and  of  the  life  on 
board  the  dahabeeyah.  The  mother  seemed  peculiarly  in- 
terested about  Mr.  Leslie,  and  asked  many  questions  about 
him ;  and  Yolande  told  her  frankly  how  pleasant  and 
agreeable  a  young  fellow  he  was,  and  how  well  he  and  hid 
sister  seemed  to  understand  each  other,  and  so  forth.  She 
betrayed  no  embarrassment  in  expressing  her  liking  for 
him  ;  although,  in  truth,  she  spoke  in  pretty  much  the  same 
terms  of  Colonel  Graham." 

"  Mr.  Leslie  was  not  married,  then?" 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  It  was  rather  a  dangerons  position  for  two  young  peo- 
ple," the  mother  said,  with  a  gentle  smile.  "  It  is  a  won- 
der you  are  not  wearing  a  ring  now." 

"  What  ring  ? "  Yolande  said,  with  a  quick  flush  of 
color. 

"  An  engagement  ring." 

In  fact,  the  girl  was  not  wearing  her  engagement  ring. 
On  coming  to  London  she  had  taken  it  off  and  put  it  away  \ 
other  duties  claimed  her  now — that  was  what  she  said  to 


YOLANDE.  800 

herself.  And  now  slio  was  content  that  her  mother  should 
remain  in  ignorance  of  that  portion  of  her  past  story. 

"  I  have  other  things  to  attend  to,"  she  said,  briefly; 
and  the  subject  was  not  continued. 

That  day  passed  very  successfully.  The  mother  had 
shown  not  the  slightest  symptom  of  any  craving  for  either 
stimulant  or  narcotic ;  nor  any  growing  depression  in  con- 
sequence of  being  deprived  of  these — though  Jack  Mel- 
ville had  warned  Yolande  that  both  were  probable.  No ; 
the  languor  from  which  she  suffered  appeared  to  be  merely 
the  languor  of  ill  health ;  and,  so  far  from  becoming  more 
depressed,  she  had  become  rather  more  cheerful,  especially 
when  they  were  wandering  along  the  lanes  in  search  of 
wild  flowers.  Moreover,  when  she  went  to  bed  (she  and 
Yolande  occupied  a  large  double-bedded  room)  she  very 
speedily  fell  into  a  sound,  quiet  sleep.  Yolande  lay  awake 
watching  her,  but  everything  seemed  right ;  and  so  by-and- 
by  the  girl's  mind  began  to  wander  away  to  distant  scenes 
and  to  pictures  that  she  had  been  trying  to  banish  from 
her  eyes. 

And  if  sometimes  in  this  hushed  room  she  cried  silently 
to  herself,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  pillow  so  that  no  sob 
should  awaken  the  sleeping  mother,  well,  perhaps  that  was 
only  a  natural  reaction.  The  strain  of  all  that  forced 
cheerfulness  had  been  terrible.  Once  or  twice  during  the 
evening  she  had  had^  to  speak  of  the  Highlands  ;  and  the 
effort  on  such  occasions  to  shut  out  certain  recollections 
and  vain  regrets  and  self-abasernents  was  of  itself  a  hard 
thing.  And  now  that  the  strain  was  over,  her  imagination 
ran  riot ;  all  the  old  life  up  there,  with  its  wonder  and  de- 
light and  its  unknown  pitfalls,  came  back  to  her;  and  all 
through  it  she  seemed  to  hear  a  sad  refrain — a  couple  of 
lines  from  on  3  of  Mrs.  Bell's  ballads — that  she  could  not 
get  out  of  her  head. 

"  Quoth  he,  '  My  bonnie  leddy,  were  ye  sweet  Jeanie  Graham  ?' 
*  Indeed,  guid  sir,  but  ye've  guessed  my  very  name.'  " 

They  could  not  apply  to  her ;  but  somehow  there  was  sor- 
row in  them  ;  and  a  meeting  after  many  years ;  and  the 
tragedy  of  two  changed  lives.  How  could  they  apply  to 
her  ?  If  there  was  any  one  of  whom  she  was  thinking  it 
ought  to  have  been  he  to  whom  she  had  plighted  her  troth. 
She  had  put  aside  her  engagement  ring  for  a  season  ;  but 


810  YOLANDE. 

she  was  not  thereby  absolved  from  her  promise.  And  yet 
it  was  not  tfhim  she  was  thinking;  it  was  of  some  on* 
she  saw  only  vaguely,  but  gray-haired  and  after  many 
years,  coining  back  to  a  wrecked  existence  ;  and  her  heart, 
that  had  a  great  yearning  and  pity  and  love  in  it,  knew 
that  it  could  not  help,  and  what  was  there  but  woman's 
tears  and  a  life-long  regret?  That  was  a  sad  night.  It 
was  not  the  mother,  it  was  the  daughter,  who  passed  the 
long  sleepless  hours  in  suffering.  But  with  the  morning 
Yolande  had  pulled  herself  together  again.  She  was  only 
a  little  pale — that  was  all.  She  was  as  cheerful,  as  brave, 
as  high-spirited  as  ever.  When  did  the  band  play  ? — they 
would  walk  out  on  the  pier.  But  even  Jane  could  see  that 
this  was  not  the  Yolande  who  had  lived  at  Allt-nam-Ba 
with  a  kind  of  sunlight  always  on  her  face ;  and  she 
wondered. 

Not  that  day  but  the  next  came  the  anxiously  expected 
news  from  the  Highlands. 

"  MY  DAKLING  YOLANDE, — Your  letter  has  given  me 
inexpressible  relief.  I  was  so  loath  to  see  you  go.  Above 
all,  it  seemed  so  cruel  that  you  should  go  alone,  and  I  re- 
main here.  But  probably  Mr.  Melville  .was  right;  perhaps 
it  may  all  turn  out  for  the  best ;  but  it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  any  one  can  say  so  ;  and  as  I  think  of  you  in  the  mean- 
time, it  is  with  no  great  sense  of  satisfaction  that  I  am  con- 
scious that  I  can  do  nothing  to  help  you.  But  I  rejoice 
that  so  far  you  have  had  no  serious  trouble ;  perhaps  the 
worst  is  over;  if  that  were  so,  then  there  might  be  a  recom- 
pense to  you  for  what  you  must  be  undergoing.  It  would 
be  strange  indeed  if  this  should  succeed  after  so  many  fail- 
ures. It  would  make  a  great  difference  to  all  our  lives  ; 
sometimes  I  begin  to  think  it  possible,  and  then  recollec- 
tions of  the  past  prove  too  strong.  Let  me  know  your 
opinion.  Tell  me  everything.  Even  after  all  these  years, 
sometimes  I  begin  to  hope  and  to  think  of  our  having  a 
home  and  a  household  after  all. 

"  There  is  but  little  news  to  send  you.  At  the  moment 
I  am  quite  alone.  Mr.  Shortlands  has  changed  all  his 
plans,  and  has  gone  south  for  a  few  days,  finding  that  he 
can  come  back  and  remain  with  me  until  the  15th  of  Octo- 
ber. Then  you  must  tell  me  what  you  would  have  me  do. 
Perhaps  you  will  know  better  by  that  time.  If  you  think 
the  experiment  hopeless,  I  trust  you  will  have  the  honesty 


YOLANDE.  311 

to  say  BO  ;  then  I  will  take  you  for  a  run  abroad  somewhere, 
af  .er  your  long  waiting  and  nursing. 

"  The  Master  is  in  Inverness,  I  hear  ;  probably  it  is  busi- 
ness that  detains  him  :  otherwise  I  should  have  been  glad  of 
nis  company  on  the  hill,  now  that  Shortlands  is  away.  But 
the  shooting  has  lost  all  interest  for  me.  When  [  come  back 
in  the  evening  there  is  no  one  standing  at  the  door,  and  no 
one  to  sit  a«;  the  head  of  the  dinner  table.  I  shall  be  glad 
when  the  15th  of  October  conies;  and  then,  if  there  is  no 
prospect  of  your  present  undertaking  proving  successful,  you 
and  I  will  preen  our  feathers  for  the  South.  If  they  are  go- 
ing to  bury  you  alive  in  these  wilds  subsequently,  you  and  I 
must  have  at  least  one  last  swallow  flight.  Not  the  Riviera 
this  time ;  the  Riviera  is  getting  to  be  a  combination  of 
Bond  Street  and  Piccadilly.  Athens — what  do  you  say?  I 
remember  the  Grahams  talking  vaguely  about  their  perhaps 
trying  to  spend  a  winter  in  Algiers,  and  pleasanter  travelling 
companions  you  could  not  find  anywhere  ;  but  even  if  we 
have  to  go  alone  we  shall  not  grumble  much  ? 

"  This  reminds  me  that  one  part  of  your  letter  made  me 
very  angry — I  mean  about  the  expense  of  the  dressing-bag, 
and  your  proposed  economy  at  Worthing.  I  suppose  it  was 
those  people  at  the  Chateau  that  put  those  ideas  into  your 
head ;  but  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  there  is  nothing  so 
stupid  as  unnecessary  economy  for  economy's  sake,  and  that 
when  I  wish  you  to  begin  cheese-paring  I  will  tell  you  so. 
Extravagance  is  silly — and  ill-bred  too ;  but  there  is  some 
such  thing  as  knowing  what  one  can  fairly  spend  in  propor- 
tion to  one's  income ;  and  when  I  wish  you  to  be  more 
moderate  in  your  expenditure  I  will  tell  you.  And,  indeed, 
it  is  not  at  such  a  time  that  you  should  think  of  expense  at 
all.  If  this  experiment  is  likely  to  end  as  we  wish,  then  we 
shall  not  be  considering  a  few  pounds  or  so. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Bell  does 
not  manage  one  whit  better  than  you — how  could  she,  when 
everything  was  perfect?  But  the  situation  is  awkward.  I 
imagined  she  was  only  coining  here  for  a  day  or  two — to  set 
things  going,  as  it  were,  under  a  new  regime  /  but  the  good 
woman  shows  no  signs  of  departure ;  and  indeed  she  man- 
ages everything  with  such  tact  and  good  sense,  and  with 
such  an  honest,  frank  recognition  of  the  facts  of  the  case, 
that  I  am  really  afraid  to  hurt  her  and  offend  her  by  suggest- 
ing that  she  should  not  waste  so  much  of  her  time  up  here. 
It  was  all  very  well  with  Mr.  Melville— he  was  her  hero,  the 


812  YOLANDE. 

master  of  the  house,  the  representative  of  the  family  that 
she  looked  up  to ;  but  it  is  different  with  me  ;  and  yet  there 
is  a  kind  of  self-respect  in  the  way  in  which  she  strictly 
keeps  to  ner  '  station,'  that  one  does  not  like  to  interfere. 
I  have  thought  of  pointing  out  to  her  that  my  last  house- 
keeper was  a  person  called  Yolande  Winterbourne,  and  that 
she  was  in  no  wise  so  respectful  in  her  manner :  but  then  I 
thought  it  better  to  let  the  good  woman  have  her  own  way ; 
and  with  all  her  respectfulness  there  is,  as  you  know,  a  frank 
and  honest  friendliness  which  tells  you  that  she  quite  under- 
stands her  own  value  in  the  world.  She  has,  however,  been 
so  communicative  as  to  unfold  to  me  her  great  project  of  the 
buying  back  of  Monaglen  ;  and  I  must  say  it  seems  very  ill- 
advised  of  Mr.  Melville,  just  when  this  project  is  about  to  be 
accomplished,  to  disappear  and  leave  not  even  his  address  be- 
hind. All  that  Mrs.  Bell  knows  is  that,  on  the  morning  you 
left,  he  announced  his  intention  of  crossing  over  the  hills  to 
Kingussie  to  catch  the  night  train  going  south  ;  and  Dunoan 
says  he  saw  him  going  up  by  the  Corrie-an-eieh.  You  know 
what  an  undertaking  that  is,  and  the  stories  they  tell  about 
people  having  been  lost  in  these  solitudes;  but,  as  Duncan 
says,  there  was  not  any  one  in  the  country  who  could  cross 
the  hills  with  less  chance  of  coming  to  harm  than  Mr.  Mel- 
ville. Still,  he  might  have  left  the  ^ood  woman  his  address; 
and  she,  it  seems,  did  not  consider  it  her  'place'  to  ask." 

At  this  point  Yolande  stopped — her  brain  bewildered, 
her  heart  beating  wildly.  If  he  had  crossed  over  the  hills 
to  catch  the  night  train  to  the  south,  why,  that  was  the  train 
in  which  she  also  was  travelling  from  Inverness  to  London  ! 
Had  he  been  in  that  same  train,  then — separated  from  her 
by  a  few  carriages  only — during  the  long  darkness  in  which 
she  seemed  to  be  leaving  behind  her  youth  and  hope  and 
almost  the  common  desire  of  life  ?  And  why  ?  He  had 
spoken  to  no  one  of  his  going  away.  Mrs.  Bell  had  guessed 
that  he  might  be  going,  from  his  preparations  of  the  prev- 
ious evening :  but  to  leave  on  that  very  morning — to  catch 
the  very  train  in  which  she  was  seated — perhaps  to  come  all 
the  wayto  London  with  her:  here  was  food  for  speculation  and 
wonder.  Of  course  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  he  might 
Lave  come  to  any  harm  in  crossing  the  hills ;  she  did  not 
even  think  of  that.  He  was  as  familiar  with  these  corries 
and  slopes  and  streams  as  with  the  door-step  of  the  house  at 
Gress.  No  ;  he  had  waited  for  the  train  to  come  along  ;  per- 
haps ehedid  not  eyen  look  out  from  the  window  when  they 


YOLANDE.  318 

readied  the  station  ;  he  would  get  into  one  of  the  car- 
riages ;  and  all  through  the  long  afternoon  and  evening, 
and  on  and  through  the  blackness  of  the  night,  and  in  the 
gray  of  the  morning,  he  was  there.  And  perhaps  at  Eus- 
ton  Square  too  ?  He  might  easily  escape  her  notice  in  the 
crowd  if  he  wished  to  do  so.  Would  he  disappear  into 
the  wilderness  of  London  ?  But  he  knew  the  name  of 
the  hotel  she  was  going  to — that  had  all  been  arranged 
between  them  ;  might  he  not  by  accident  have  passed  along 
Albemarle  Street  on  one  or  other  of  those  days  ?  Ah,  if  she 
had  chanced  to  see  him  ! — would  not  London  have  seemed 
less  lonely  ?  would  she  not  have  consoled  herself  with  the 
fancy  that  somewhere  or  other  there  was  one  watching  over 
her  and  guarding  her  ?  A  dream — a  dream.  If  he  were 
indeed  there,  he  had  avoided  meeting  her.  He  had  gone 
away.  He  had  disappeared — into  the  unknown  ;  and  per- 
haps the  next  she  should  hear  of  him  might  be  after  many 
years,  as  of  a  gray-haired  man  going  back  to  the  place  that 
once  know  him,  with  perhaps  some  vague  question  on  his 
lips — 

"  My  bonnie  ladcly,  were  ye  sweet  Jeanie  Graham  ?  " 

though  to  whom  he  might  address  that  question  she  scarcely 
dared  to  ask  or  think. 

She  only  looked  over  the  remainder  of  the  letter;  her 
hurried  fancies  were  wandering  far  away. 

11  So  you  see  I  have  no  news;  although  in  my  solitude 
this  gossip  seems  to  unite  you  with  me  for  a  time.  The 
only  extraordinary  tiling  that  I  have  seen  or  met  with  since 
you  left,  we  ran  across  the  other  night  on  coming  home  from 
the  shooting.  We  had  been  to  the  far  tops  after  ptarmigan 
and  white  hares,  and  got  belated.  Long  before  we  reached 
home  complete  darkness  overtook  us ;  a  darkness  so  com- 
plete that,  although  we  walked  Indian  tile,  Duncan  leading, 
1  could  not  see  Shorthands,  who  was  just  in  front  of  me  ;  I 
had  to  follow  him  by  sound,  sliding  down  among  loose 
stones  or  jumping  into  peat-lings  in  a  very  happy-go-lucky 
fashion.  Crossing  the  Allt-crom  by  the  little  swinging 
bridge  you  know  of,  was  also  a  pleasant  performance,  for 
there  had  been  rain,  and  the  waters  were  much  swollen, 
and  made  a  terrible  noise  in  the  dark.  However,  it  was 
when  we  were  over  the  bridge  and  making  for  the  lodge 
that  I  noticed  the  phenomenon  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about 


314  YOLANDE. 

I  was  trying  to  make  out  John  Shortland's  legs  in  front  of 
me  when  I  saw  on  the  ground  two  or  three  small  points  of 
white  fire.  I  thought  it  strange  for  glow-worms  to  be  so 
high  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  I  called  the  others  back 
to  examine  these  things.  But  now  I  found,  as  they  were 
all  standing  in  the  dark,  talking,  that  wherever  you  lifted 
your  foot  from  the  wet  black  peat,  immediately  afterward  a 
large  number  of  these  pale  points  of  clear  fire  appeared, 
burning  for  about  a  minute,  and  then  gradually  disappear- 
ing. Some  were  larger  and  clearer  than  others — just  as  you 
remember,  on  a  phosphorescent  night  at  sea,  there  are  in- 
dividual big  stars  separate  from  the  general  rush  of  white 
as  the  steamer  goes  on.  We  tried  to  lift  some  of  the  points 
of  light,  but  could  not  manage  it ;  so  I  take  it  they  were 
not  glow-worms  or  any  other  living  creatures,  but  an  emana- 
tion of  gas  from  the  peaty  soils,only"that,  unlike  the  will-o-the- 
wisp,  they  were  quite  stationary,  and  burned  with  a  clear 
white  or  blue-white  flame — the  size  of  the  most  of  them 
not  bigger  than  the  head  of  a  common  pin,  and  sometimes 
about  fifteen  or  twenty  of  them  appearing  where  one  foot 
had  been  pressed  into  the  soft  soil.  Had  Mr.  Melville  been 
at  Gress  1  should  have  asked  him  about  it ;  no  doubt  he  has 
noticed  this  thing  in  his  rambles ;  but  he  has  been  away,  as 
I  say,  and  nobody  about  here  has  any  explanation  to  offer. 
The  shepherds  say  that  the  appearance  of  this  phosphoresc- 
ence, or  electricity,  or  illuminated  gas,  or  whatever  it  is, 
foretells  a  change  in  the  weather  ;  but  I  have  never  yet  met 
with  any  thing  in  heaven  or  earth  of  which  the  shepherds  did 
not  say  the  same  thing.  But  as  you,  my  dear  Yolande,  have 
not  seen  this  phenomenon,  and  know  absolutely  nothing 
about  it,  you  will  be  in  a  position  to  furnish  me  with  a  per- 
fectly consistent  scientific  theory  about  it,  which  I  desire 
to  have  from  you  at  your  convenience. 

"A  hamper  of  game  goes  to  you  to-day,  also  a  bunch 
of  white  heather  from 

"Your  affectionate  father, 

"  K.  G.  WlNTEKBOURNE." 

She  dwelt  over  the  picture  here  presented  of  his  solitary 
life  in  the  north  ;  and  she  knew  that  now  no  longer  were 
there  happy  dinner  parties  in  the  evening,  and  pleasant 
friends  talking  together  ;  and  no  longer  was  there  any  need 
for  Duncan— outside  in  the  twilight — to  play  "  Mulville'i 
Welcome  Home." 


YOLANDE.  816 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

AWAKING. 

ANOTHER  two  days  passed,  Yolande  doing  her  best  to 
make  the  time  go  by  briskly  and  pleasantly.  They  walked 
on  the  promenade  or  the  pier;  they  drove  away  inland 
through  quaint  little  villages  and  quiet  lanes.  When  the 
weather  was  wet  they  staid  indoors,  and  she  read  to  her 
mother,  or  they  rigged  up  the  big  telescope  in  the  bay-win- 
dow to  follow  the  slow  progress  of  the  distant  ships.  And 
the  strange  thing  was  that,  as  Yolande  gradually  perceived, 
her  mother's  intellect  seemed  to  grow  clearer  and  clearer 
while  her  spirits  grew  more  depressed. 

"I  have  been  in  a  dream — I  have  been  in  a  dream," 
she  used  to  say.  "  I  will  try  not  to  go  back.  Yolande, 
you  must  help  me.  You  must  give  me  your  hand." 

"  You  have  been  ill,  mother  ;  the  sea  air  will  make  you 
strong  again,"  the  girl  said,  making  no  reference  to  other 
matters. 

However,  that  studied  silence  did  not  last.  On  the 
evening  of  the  fifth  day  of  their  stay  at  Worthing,  Yolande 
observed  that  her  mother  seemed  still  more  depressed  and 
almost  suffering ;  and  she  did  all  she  could  to  distract  her 
attention  and  amuse  her.  At  last  the  poor  woman  said, 
looking  at  her  daughter  in  a  curious  kind  of  way, 

"  Yolande,  did  you  notice  when  I  came  away  from  the 
house  with  you  that  I  went  back  for  a  moment  into  my 
room  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  you  did." 

"I  will  tell  you  now  why  I  went  back."  She  put  her 
hand  in  her  pocket  and  drew  out  a  small  blue  bottle,  which 
she  put  on  the  table.  "  It  was  for  that,"  she  said,  calmly. 

A  Hush  of  color  overspread  the  hitherto  pale  features  of 
the  girl ;  it  was  she  who  was  ashamed  and  embarrassed ; 
and  she  said,  quickly  : 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  mother — I  know  what  it  is.  But 
now  you  will  put  it  away  ;  you  do  not  want  it  any  longer— ' 

"  I  am  afraid,"  the  mother  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Some- 


316  YOLANDE. 

times  I  have  tried  until  it  seemed  as  if  I  was  dying,  and 
that  has  brought  me  to  life  again.  Oh,  I  hope  I  shall 
never  touch  it  again  :  I  want  to"  be  with  you,  walking  by 
your  side  among  the  other  people,  and  like  them — like 
every  one  else." 

"And  so  you  shall,  mother,"  Yolande  said;  and  she 
rose  and  got  hold  of  the  bottle.  "  I  am  going  to  throw  this 
away." 

"  No,  no,  Yolande  ;  give  it  to  me,"  she  said,  but  with- 
out any  excitement.  *'  It  is  no  use  throwing  it  away.  That 
would  make  me  think  of  it.  I  would  get  more.  I  could 
not  rest  until  I  had  gone  to  a  chemist's  and  got  more — per- 
haps some  time  when  you  were  not  looking.  But  when  it 
is  there  I  feel  safe.  1  can  push  it  away  from  me." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Yolande,  as  she  went  to  the 
fire-place  and  placed  the  bottle  conspicuously  on  the  man- 
tel-shelf. Then  she  went  back  to  her  mother.  "  It  shall 
remain  there,  mother — as  something  you  have  no  further 
need  of.  That  is  done  with  now.  It  was  a  great  tempta- 
tion when  you  were  living  in  lodgings  in  a  town,  not  in 
good  air ;  and  you  were  very  weak  and  ill ;  but  soon  you 
will  be  strong  enough  to  get  over  your  fits  of  faintness  or 
depression  without  that"  She  put  her  hand  on  her 
mother's  shoulder.  "  It  is  for  my  sake  that  you  have  put  it 
away  ?  " 

In  answer  she  took  her  daughter's  hand  in  both  hers 
and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes.  I  have  put  it  away,  Yolande,  for  your 
sake — I  have  put  it  away  forever,  now.  But  you  have  a 
little  excuse  for  me  ?  You  do  not  think  so  hardly  of  me  as 
the  others  ?  I  have  been  near  dying — and  alone.  I  did 
not  know  I  had  such  a  beautiful  daughter — coming  to  take 
care  of  me,  too !  And  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away  now 
— not  for  a  while,  at  least.  Stay  with  me  for  a  little  time 
— until — until  I  have  got  to  be  just  like  the  people  we  meet 
out  walking — just  like  every  one  else ;  and  then  I  shall 
have  no  fear  of  being  alone ;  I  shall  never,  never  touch 
that." 

She  glanced  at  the  bottle  on  the  mantel-shelf  with  a 
sort  of  horror.  She  held  her  daughter's  hand  tight.  And 
Yolande  kept  by  her  until,  not  thinking  it  was  prudent  to 
make  too  much  of  this  little  incident,  she  begged  her 
mother  to  come  and  get  her  things  on  for  another  short 
stroll  before  tea. 


YOLANDE.  817 

Toward  the  evening,  however,  it  was  clear  that  this 
poor  woman  was  suffering  more  and  more,  although  she 
endeavored  to  put  a  brave  face  on  it,  and  only  desired  that 
Yolande  should  be  in  the  room  with  her.  At  dinner  she 
took  next  to  nothing  ;  and  Yolande,  on  her  own  responsi- 
bikty,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  send  for  some  wine  for  her. 
But  no.  She  seemed  to  think  that  there  was  something  to 
be  got  through,  and  she  would  go  through  with  it.  Some- 
times she  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  listening  to 
the  sound  of  the  sea  in  the  darkness.  Then  she  would 
come  back  and  sit  down  by  the  fire,  and  ask  Yolande  to 
read  to  her — this,  that  or  the  other  thing.  But  what  she 
most  liked  to  have  read  and  re-read  to  her  was  "  A  Dream 
of  Fair  Women  "  ;  and  she  liked  to  have  Yolando  standing 
by  the  fire-place,  so  that  she  could  regard  her.  And  some- 
tmies  the  tears  would  gather  in  her  eyes,  when  the  gir/ 
carne  to  the  lines  about  Jephthah's  daughter : 

"  emptied  of  all  joy, 
Leaving  the  dance  and  song. 

"  Leaving  the  olive  gardens  far  below, 

Leaving  the  promise  of  my  bridal  bower, 
The  valleys  of  grape-loaded  vines  that  glow 
Beneath  the  battled  tower. 

"  The  light  white  cloud  swam  over  us.    Anon 
We  heard  the  lion  roaring  from  his  den  ; 
We  saw  the  large  white  stars  rise  one  by  one, 
Or,  from  the  darken' d  glen, 

"  Saw  God  divide  the  night  with  flying  flame, 

And  thunder  on  the  everlasting  hills. 
I  heard  Him,  for  He  spake,  and  grief  became 
A  solemn  scorn  of  ills." 

"  It  was  not  fair — it  was  not  fair,"  she  murmured. 

"What,  mother?" 

"  To  send  you  here." 

"  Where  ought  I  to  be,  then,"  she  asked,  proudly,  "  ex- 
cept by  your  side  '(  " 

"  You  ?  Your  young  life  should  not  be  sacrificed  to 
mine.  Why  did  they  ask  you  ?  I  should  thank  God,  Yo- 
lande, if  you  were  to  go  away  this  evening — now — if  you 
were  to  go  away,  and  be  happy  with  your  youth  and  beauty 
and  kind  friends  ;  that  is  the  life  fit  for  you." 

"  But  I  am  not  going,  mother." 

"Ah,  you  don't  know — you  don't  know,"  the  other  said, 


818  YOLANDE. 

with  a  kind  of  despair  coming  over  her.  "  I  am  ill,  Yolande 
I  am  wretched  and  miserable." 

"  The  more  reason  I  should  stay,  surely." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  away  and  leave  me.  I  can  get 
back  to  London.  What  have  I  been  thinking  of  is  beyond 
me.  I  am  too  ill.  But  you — you — I  shall  always  think  of 
you  as  moving  through  the  world  like  a  princess — in  sun- 
light." 

"  Dear  mother,"  said  Yolande,  firmly,  "  I  think  we  said 
we  were  going  to  have  no  more  nonsense.  I  am  not  going 
to  leave  you.  And  what  you  were  looking  forward  to  is 
quite  impossible.  If  you  are  ill  and  suffering  now,  I  am 
sorry ;  I  would  gladly  bear  it  for  your  sake.  I  have  had 
little  trouble  in  the  world ;  I  would  take  your  share.  But 
going  away  from  you  I  am  not.  So  you  must  take  courage 
and  hope ;  and  some  day — ah,  some  "day  soon  you  will  be 
glad." 

"  But  if  I  am  restless  to-night,"  said  she,  glancing  at  her 
daughter,  uneasily^  "  and  walking  up  and  down,  it  will  dis- 
turb you." 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  "  said  Folande,  cheerfully. 

"  You  might  get  another  room." 

"  1  am  not  going  into  any  other  room.  Do  you  think  I 
would  forsake  my  patient." 

"  Will  you  leave  the  light  burning,  then  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  it,  yes ;  but  not  high,  for  you  must  sleep." 

But  when  they  were  retiring  to  rest  the  mother  begged 
that  the  little  blue  bottle  should  be  placed  on  the  bedroom 
chimney-piece. 

"  Why,  mother,  why  ?   You  surely  would  not  touch  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !  I  hope  not !  But  I  shall  know  it  is 
near — if  I  am  like  to  die." 

"  You  must  not  fear  that,  mother.  I  will  put  the  bottle 
on  the  chimney-piece,  if  you  like,  but  you  need  not  even 
think  of  it.  That  is  more  likely  to  cause  your  death  than 
anything  else.  And  you  would  not  break  your  promise  to 
me?" 

She  pressed  her  daughter's  hand  ;  that  was  all. 

Yolande  did  not  go  quickly  to  sleep,  for  she  knew  that 
her  mother  was  suffering — the  labored  sighs  from  time  to 
time  told  her  as  much.  She  lay  and  listened  to  the  wash 
of  the  sea  along  the  shingle,  and  to  the  tramp  of  the  lata 
wayfarers  along  the  pavement.  She  heard  the  people  of  the 
house  go  upstairs  to  bed.  And  then,  bv-and-bv,  the  stiU 


YOLAXDE.  319 

ness  of  the  room,  ami  the  effects  of  the  fresh  air,  and  the 
natural  healthiness  of  youth,  combined  to  make  her  drowsy, 
and  rather  against  her  inclination,  her  eyes  slowly  closed. 

She  was  waked  by  a  moan — as  of  a  soul  in  mortal  agony. 
But  even  in  her  alarm  she  did  not  start  up ;  she  took  time 
to  recover  her  senses.  And  if  the  poor  mother  were  really 
in  such  suffering,  would  it  not  be  better  for  her  to  lie  as  if 
she  were  asleep  ?  No  appeal  could  be  made  to  her  for  any 
relaxation  of  the  promise  that  had  been  given  her. 

Then  she  became  aware  of  a  stealthy  noise;  and  a 
strange  terror  took  possession  of  her.  She  opened  her  eyes 
ever  so  slightly — glimmering  through  the  lashes  only — and 
there  she  saw  that  her  worst  fears  were  being  realized. 
Her  mother  had  got  out  of  bed  and  stolen  across  the  room 
to  the  sideboard  in  the  parlor,  returning  with  a  glass. 
Yolande,  all  trembling,  lay  and  watched.  She  was  not 
going  to  interfere — it  was  not  part  of  her  plan  ;  and  you 
may  be  sure  she  had  contemplated  this  possibility  before 
now.  And  very  soon  it  appeared  why  the  poor  woman  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  go  for  a  glass ;  it  was  to  measure  out 
the  smallest  quantity  that  she  thought  would  alleviate  her 
anguish.  She  poured  a  certain  quantity  of  the  black-look- 
ing fluid  into  the  glass  ;  then  she  regarded  it,  as  if  with 
hesitation  ;  then  she  deliberately  poured  back  one  drop,  two 
drops,  three  drops ;  and  drank  the  rest  at  a  gulp.  Then, 
in  the  same  stealthy  fashion,  she  took  the  glass  to  the  par- 
lor and  left  it  there,  and  crept  silently  back  again  and  into 
bed. 

Yolande  rose.  Her  face  was  pale,  her  lips  firm.  She 
did  not  look  at  her  mother ;  but,  just  as  if  she  were  assum- 
ing her  to  be  asleep,  she  quietly  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
presently  returned  with  a  glass  in  her  hand.  She  went  to 
the  chimney-piece.  Very  well  she  knew  that  her  mother's 
eyes  were  fixed  on  her,  and  intently  watching  her ;  and  as 
she  poured  some  of  that  dark  liquid  into  the  glass,  no  doubt 
she  guessed,  the  poor  woman  was  imagining  that  this  was 
an  experiment  to  see  what  had  been  taken  out  of  the  bottle. 
But  that  was  not  quite  Yolande's  purpose.  When  she  had 
poured  out,  as  nearly  as  she  could  calculate,  the  same 
quantity  that  her  mother  had  taken,  she  turned  her  face  to 
the  light,  and  deliberately  drank  the  contents  of  the  glass. 
It  was  done  in  a  second ;  there  was  a  sweet,  mawkish, 
pungent  taste  in  the  mouth,  and  a  shiver  of  disgust  as  she 


820  YOLANDE. 

nwallowed  the  thing ;  then  she  calmly  replaced  the  bottle 
on  the  chimney-piece. 

But  the  mother  had  sprung  from  her  bed  with  a  wild 
phriek,  and  caught  the  girl  by  both  hands. 

"  Yolande  !  Yolande  !  what  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  What  is  right  for  you,  mother,  is  right  for  me,"  she 
said,  in  clear  and  settled  tones.  "  It  is  how  I  mean  to  do 
always." 

The  frantic  grief  of  this  poor  creature  was  pitiable  to 
witness.  She  flung  her  arms  ronnd  her  daughter,and  drew 
her  to  her,  and  wept  aloud,  and  called  down  vengeance  upon 
herself  from  Heaven.  And  then  in  a  passion  of  remorse  she 
flew  at  the  bottle  that  was  standing  there,  and  would  have 
hurled  it  into  the  fireplace,  had  not  Yolande,  whose  head 
was  beginning  to  swim  already,  interposed,  calmly  and 
firmly.  She  took  the  bottle  from  her  mother's  hand  and  re- 
placed it. 

"  No ;  it  must  remain  there,  mother.  It  must  stand  there 
until  you  and  I  can  bear  to  know  that  it  is  there,  and  not  to 
wish  for  it." 

Even  in  the  midst  of  her  wild  distress  and  remorse  there 
was  one  phrase  in  this  speech  that  had  the  effect  of  silencing 
the  mother  altogether.  She  drew  back,  aghast,  her  face 
white,  her  eyes  staring  with  horror. 

"  Vou  and  I  ?"  she  repeated.  "  You  and  I  ?  You — to 
become  like — like — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Yolande.  "  What  is  right  for  you  is  right 
for  me  ;  that  is  what  I  mean  to  do — always.  Now,  dear 
mother,"  she  added,  in  a  more  languid  way,"  I  will  lie  down 
—I  am  giddy — " 

She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  putting  her  hand  to 
her  forehead,  and  rested  so  awhile  ;  then  insensible  after  a 
time  she  drooped  down  on  to  the  piilow,  although  the  fright- 
ened and  frantic  mother  tried  to  get  an  arm  round  her 
waist,  and  very  soon  the  girl  had  relapsed  mho  perfect  in- 
sensibility. 

And  then  a  cry  rang  through  the  house  like  the  cry  of  the 
Egyptian  mothers  over  the  death  of  their  first-born.  The 
poison  seemed  to  act  in  directly  opposite  ways  in  the  brains 
01  these  two  women — the  one  it  plunged  into  a  profound  stu- 
por ;  the  other  it  drove  into  frenzy.  She  threw  herself  on 
the  senseless  form,  and  wound  her  arms  round  the  girl,  and 
shrieked  aloud  that  she  had  murdered  her  child — her  beauti- 
ful daughter — she  was  dying — dead — and  no  one  to  save 


YOLANDE.  821 

'Her — murdered  by  her  own  mother!  The  little  household 
was  roused  at  once,  Jane  came  rushing  in,  terrified.  The 
landlady  was  the  first  to  recover  her  wits,  and  instantly  she 
sent  a  house-maid  for  a  doctor.  Jane,  being  a  strong-armed 
woman,  dragged  the  hysterical  mother  back  from  the  bed, 
and  bathed  her  young  unstress's  with  eau-de-Cologne  ;  it  was 
all  the  poor  kind  creature  could  think  of.  Then  they  tried 
to  calm  the  mother  somewhat,  for  she  was  begging  them 
to  give  her  a  knife  that  she  might  kill  herself  and  die  with 
her  child. 

The  doctor's  arrival  quieted  matters  somewhat ;  and  he 
had  scarcely  been  a  minute  in  the  room  when  his  eyes  fell 
on  the  small  blue  bottle  on  the  mantelpiece.  That  he  in- 
stantly got  hold  of  ;  the  label  told  him  what  were  the  con- 
tents ;  and  when  he  went  back  to  the  bedside  of  the  girl, 
who  was  lying  insensible  in  a  heavy  breathing  sleep,  her 
chest  laboring  as  if  against  some  weight,  he  had  to  exercise 
some  control  over  the  mother  to  get  her  to  show  him  pre- 
cisely the  quantity  of  the  fluid  that  had  been  taken.  The 
poor  woman  seemed  beside  herself.  She  dropped  on  her 
knees  before  him  in  a  passion  of  tears,  and  clasped  her 
hands. 

"  Save  her !  save  her !  sa.ve  my  child  to  me  !  If  you  can 
give  her  back  to  me  I  will  die  a  hundred  times  before  harm 
shall  come  to  her — my  beautiful  child  that  came  to  me  like 
an  angel,  with  kindness  and  open  hands,  and  this  is  what  I 
have  clone  !  " 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  "  said  the  doctor,  and  he  took  her  by  the 
hand  and  gently  raised  her.  **  Now  you  must  be  quiet. 
I  am  not  going  to  wake  your  daughter.  If  that  is  what  she 
took  she  will  sleep  it  oft';  she  is  young,  and  I  should  say 
healthy.  I  am  going  to  let  nature  work  the  cure,  though  I 
fear  the  young  lady  will  have  a  bad  headache  in  the  morn- 
ing. It  is  a  most  mischievous  thing  to  have  such  drugs  in 
the  house.  "  You  are  her  maid,  I  understand  ?  "  he  said, 
turning  to  Jane. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Ah.  Well,  I  think  for  to-night  you  had  better  occupy 
that  bed  over  there,  and  the  young  lady's  mother  can  have 
a  bed  elsewhere.  I  don't  think  you  need  fear  anything — ex- 
cept a  headache  in  the  morning.  Let  her  sleep  as  long 
as  she  may.  In  the  morning  let  her  go  for  a  drive  in  the 
fresh  air,  if  she  is  too  languid  to  walk." 

But  the  mother  cried  so  bitterly  ou  hearing  of  this  ar- 


3:22  YOLANDE. 

rangcment  that  they  had  to  consent  to  her  retaining  her 
place  in  the  room,  while  Jane  said  she  could  make  herself 
comfortable  enough  in  an  arm -chair.  As  for  the  poor 
mother,  she  did  not  go  back  to  her  own  bed  at  all ;  she  sat 
at  the  side  of  Yol  an  ore's  bed — at  the  foot  of  it.  lest  the  sound 
of  her  sobbing  should  disturb  the  sleeper ;  and  sometimes 
she  put  her  hand  ever  so  lightly  on  the  bedclothes,  with  a 
kind  of  pat,  as  it  were,  while  the  tears  were  running  down 
her  face. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

"O*  BY-GANK  DATS  AXJJ  ME." 

THE  Master  of  Lynn  was  walking  along  Church  Street, 
Inverness,  leisurely  smoking  his  morning  cigar,  when  a  small 
boy  from  the  hotel  overtook  him  and  handed  him  a  letter. 
He  glanced  at  the  handwriting,  and  saw  it  was  from  his  sister; 
so  he  put  it  in  his  pocket  without  opening  it.  Then  he  went 
on  and  into  Mr.  Macleay's  shop. 

This  was  a  favorite  lounge  of  his.  For  not  only  was  it  a 
valuable  museum  of  natural  history  — all  kinds  of  curiosities 
and  rarities  being  sent  thither  to  be  preserved — but  also,  to 
any  one  with  sufficient  knowledge,  it  afforded  a  very  fair  re- 
port as  to  what  was  going  on  in  the  different  forests.  More 
than  that,  it  Avas  possible  for  one  to  form  a  shrewd  guess  as 
to  the  character  of  some  of  the  people  then  wandering  about 
the  Highland — the  sort  of  sportsmen,  for  example,  who 
sent  to  be  stuffed  such  rare  and  remarkable  birds  as  gannets, 
kittiwakes,  and  skarts,  or  who  wished  to  have  all  the  honors 
of  a  glass  case  and  a  painted  background  conferred  on  a 
three-pound  trout.  It  was  not  difficult  (as  he  sat  on  the 
counter  or  strolled  about)  to  imagine  the  simple  joy  with  which 
these  trophies  had  been  secured  and  carefully  packed  and 
sent  away  for  preservation  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  some 
great  stag's  head — a  magnificent  and  solitary  prize — perhaps 
awoke  a  touch  of  envy.  The  good-natured  proprietor  of  the 
establishment,  busy  with  his  own  affairs,  let  this  young  man 
do  pretty  much  what  he  liked  in  the  place;  and  eo  it  was 
that  the  Master,  having  had  a  look  at  the  latest  specimens 
of  the  skill  of  the  workshop,  took  out  his  sister's  letter  and 


read  it,  aiul  then  begged   for  a  sheet    of  paper  and    the  loan 
of   :i   pen.       lie   thought   hi;    might   just    as    well    iinisn  his 
cigar  here,  and  answer  his  sister  at  the  same  time. 
He  wrote  us  follows  : 

"INVERNESS,  September  :iU. 

"DEAR  POLLY, — I  wish  you  would  be  ] -leased  to  moderate 
the  rancor  of  your  tongue;  there  is  quite  enough  of  that 
commodity  at  Lynn.  Whoever  has  told  you  of  the  latest 
row  has  probably  not  overstepped  the  truth;  but  isn't  it  a 
blessed  dispensation  of  Providence  that  one  can  obtain  a 
little  peace  at  the  Station  Hotel  ?  However,  that  is  becom- 
ing slow.  I  wish  I  knew  where  Jack  Melville  is;  I  would 
Sropose  a  little  foreign  travel.  For  one  thing,  I  certainly 
on't  mean  to  go  back  to  Lynn  until  JMr  Winterbourne  has 
left  AlIt-nam-Ba ;  of  course  he  must  see  very  well  that  the 
people  at  the  Towers  have  cut  him  ;  and  no  doubt  he  under- 
stands the  reason;  and  he  might  ask,  don't  you  see;  and 
very  likely  he  might  get  angry  and  indignant  (I  shouldn't 
blame  him)  and  then  he  might  ask  Yolande  to  break  oil  i!ie 
engagement.  Such  things  have  happened  before.  ]>ut  you 
needn't  get  wild  with  me.  I  don't  seek  to  break  off  the  en- 
gagement; certainly  not;  if  that  is  what  they  are  aiming  at 
they  will  find  me  just  as  pertinacious  as  you  were  about 
Graham  (you  needn't  assume  that  you  have  all  th^  obstinacy 
in  the  world);  and  although  I'm  not  too  squeami>h  about 
most  things,  still,  I'm  not  going  to  break  my  word  simply 
because  Auntie  Tub  doesn't  like  Mr.  Winterbourne's  poli- 
tics. 

"Now  there's  is  a  chance  for  you,  Miss  Polly.  Why 
don't  you  set  to  work  to  make  a  leopard  change  his  spots? 
You  think  you  can  talk  anybody  over.  Why  don't  you  talk- 
over  Mr.  Winterbourne  into  the  paths  of  virtue  and  high 
Toryism?  I  don't  see  why  it  should  be  so  diflicult.  Of 
course  he's  violent  enough  in  the  House;  but  that's  to  keep 
in  with  his  constituents;  and  to  talk  with  him  after  a  day's 
shooting  you  wouldn't  guess  he  had  any  politics  at  all.  I'd 
bet  a  sovereign  he  would  rather  get  a  royal  than  be  made  a 
cabinet  minister.  You'd  much  better  go  and  coax  him  into 
the  paths  of  the  just  than  keep  getting  into  rages  with  me. 
You  talk  as  if  it  was  you  that  wanted  to  irfarry  Yolande  ;  or 
rather  as  if  it  was  you  who  were  going  to  buy  the  Corrie- 
Treak  side  from  Sir  John,  and  couldn't  wait  for  the  convey 
ancing  to  be  done.  Such  impetuosity  isn't  in  accord  will. 


324  YOLANDE. 

your  advancing  years.  The  fact  is,  you  haven't  been  having 
your  fair  dose  of  flirtation  lately,  and  you're  in  a  bad  tem- 
per. But  why  with  me  ?  /  didn't  ask  the  people  to  Invers- 
troy.  I  can  sec  what  sort  of  people  they  are  by  the  cart-load 
of  heads  Graham  has  sent  here  (I  am  writing  in  Macleay's 
shop).  If  ever  I  can  afford  to  keep  our  forest  in  my  own 
hands  there  won't  be  anything  of  that  going  on — no  matter 
who  is  in  the  house. 

"  And  why  should  you  call  upon  me  for  the  explanation 
of  the  'mystery'?  What  mystery  is  involved  in  Yolande's 
going  south?  Her  father,  I  understand,  leaves  on  the  15th 
of  October;  and  I  am  not  surprised  that  nothing  has  been 
said  about  a  lease  of  the  place.  Of  course  Winterbourne 
must  understand.  But  in  the  south,  my  dear  Polly,  if  you 
would  only  look  at  the  reasonable  aspect  of  affairs,  we  may 
all  of  us  meet  on  less  embarrassing  terms;  and  I  for  one 
shall  not  be  sorry  to  get  away  for  the  winter  from  the  society 
of  Tabby  and  Co.  Yolande  and  I  have  not  quarelled  in 
the  least;  on  that  point  you  may  keep  your  hair  smooth. 
But  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  am  not  bound  in  honor  to 
tell  her  how  I  am  placed;  and  what  treatment  in  the  future 
— or  rather  what  no-treatment  —  she  may  expect  from  my 
affectionate  relatives.  Of  course  it  can  not  matter  to  her. 
She  will  be  independent  of  them — I  also.  But  I  think  I 
ought  to  let  her  know,  so  that  she  will  not  be  surprised  at 
their  silence;  and  of  course  if  she  resents  their  attitude  to 
her  father  (as  is  very  likely) — well,  that  is  their  fault,  not 
mine.  I  am  not  going  to  argue  any  more  about  it;  and  as 
for  anything  like  begging  for  their  patronage  or  sufferance 
of  Yolande,  that  is  entirely  out  of  the  question.  I  will  not 
have  it,  and  I  have  told  you  so  before;  so  there  may  just 
as  well  be  an  end  to  your  lecture.  I  am  a  vertebrate  an- 
imal. 

"  Yolande  is  at  Worthing — not  in  London,  as  you  seem  to 
think.  I  don't  know  her  address;  but  I  have  written  to  Allt- 
nam-ba  for  it.  I  believe  she  left  rather  in  a  hurry.  No;  I 
sha'n't  send  it  to  you;  for  you  would  probably  only  make  mis- 
chief by  interfering;  and  indeed  it  is  not  with  her  that  any 
pursuasion  is  necessary.  Persuasion? — it's  a  little  common- 
sense  that  is  necessary.  But  that  kind  of  plant  doesn't  flourish 
at  the  Towers — I  never  heard  of  Jack  Melville  getting  it  for  his 
collection  of  dried  weeds. 

"  Well,  good-by.     Don't  tear  your  hair. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother,  ARCHIE. 


YOLAXDV.  326 

"P.S. — It  is   very  kind    of  you    to  remind  me  of  baby's 

birthday;    but    how    on    earth   do    you   expert  me    to   know 

what   to    send   it?  A  rocking-horse,  or   a  Latin  Grammar,  or 
what!" 

lie  leisurely  folded  the  letter,  put  it  in  an  envelope,  and 
addressed  it  ;  then  he  turned  to  have  a  further  chat  with 
Mr.  Macleay  ahotit  the  various  triumphs  of  the  taxidi-rmie 
art  standing  around.  Several  of  these  were  in  the  window ; 
and  lie  was  idly  regarding  them,  when  he  caught  sight, 
through  the  panes,  of  someone  passing  by  outside.  For  a 
second  lie  seemed  to  pause,  irresolute;  then  lie  quickly  said 
good-morning  to  Mr.  Macleay,  went  outside,  threw  away 
nis  cigar,  and  followed  the  figure  that  he  had  seen  passing 
the  window.  It  was  that  of  a  young  woman,  neatly  dressed ; 
indeed,  it  was  no  other  than  Shena  Van — though  probably 
Janet  Stewart  had  acquired  that  name  when  she  was  younger, 
for  now  she  could  not  strictly  be  described  as  fair,  though  her 
hair  was  of  a  light  brown  and  her  eyes  of  a  deep  and  exceed- 
ingly pretty  blue. 

"Good-morning,    Miss  Stewart,"   said  he,   overtaking  her. 

The  young  lady  turned  quickly,  perhaps  with  a  slight 
touch  of  alarm  as  well  as  surprise  in  her  look. 

"  Oh,  good  morning,  Mr.  Leslie,"  said  she,  with  a  certain 
reserve — not  to  say  coldness — of  manner ;  though  the  sound 
of  her  speech,  with  its  slight  accent,  was  naturally  gentle  and 
winning. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  were  in  Inverness,"  said  he.  "  I  just 
caught  a  glimpse  of  you  while  I  was  in  Macleay's  shop.  AVliy, 
it  is  a  longtime  since  I  have  seen  you  now. 

She  was  a  little  embarrassed  and  nervous;  probably  desirous 
of  getting  away,  and  yet  not  wishing  to  be  rude. 

"  I  am  often  in  Inverness  now,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes 
averted,  "since  my  sister  was  married." 

"Are  you  going  to  the  steamer?"  he  asked,  for  she  carried 
a  small  parcel  in  her  hand. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  with  some  hesitation.  "  I  was  thinking  of 
walking  to  the  steamer." 

14  Then  I  suppose  I  may  go  as  far  with  you,"  said  he, 
"  for  I  have  a  letter  that  I  want  the  clerk  to  have  sent  on  to 
Inverstroy." 

She  glanced  quickly  np  and  down  the  street ;  but  he  did 
not  give  her  time  to  say  yea  or  nay;  and  then,  with  some- 
thing of  silence  and  resentment  on  her  part,  they  set  out 


326  YOLANDE. 

together.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  and  cheerful  morning  ; 
and  their  way  was  out  into  the  country ;  for  Miss  Stewart  s 
destination  was  that  lock  on  the  Caledonian  Canal  from 
which  the  steamer  daily  sails  for  the  south.  Nevertheless 
the  young  lady  did  not  seem  over-well  pleased. 

At  first  they  talked  chiefly  about  her  friends  and  rela- 
tives, he  asking  the  questions  and  she  answering  with  some- 
what few  words  ;  and  she  was  careful  to  inform  him  that 
now  she  was  more  than  ever  likely  to  be  away  from  Inver- 
ness-shire, for  her  brother  had  recently  been  elected  to  one 
of  the  professorships  at  Aberdeen,  and  he  had  taken  a 
house  there,  and  he  liked  to  have  her  in  the  house,  because 
of  looking  after  things.  She  gave  him  to  understand  that 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  society  in  the  ancient  city  of 
Aberdeen,  and  that  the  young  men  of  the  University  were 
anxious  to  visit  at  her  brother's  house. 

"It  is  a  natural  thing,"  said  pretty  Shena  Van,  with  a 
touch  of  pride  in  her  tone,  "  for  the  young  men  to  be  glad 
to  be  friends  with  my  brother;  not  only  because  he  is  one 
of  the  professors,  but  because  he  was  very  distinguished  at 
Edinburgh,  and  at  Heidelberg  too — very  distinguished  in- 
deed." 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  know  that,"  said  the  Master  of  Lynn, 
warmly.  "  I  have  heard  Jack  Melville  speak  of  him.  I  dare 
say  your  father  is  very  proud  of  his  success." 

"  Indeed  I  think  we  are  all  rather  proud  of  it,"  said 
Miss  Stewart. 

But  when  they  had  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  wide  and 
shallow  waters  of  the  Ness,  and  were  getting  away  from  the 
town  into  the  quietude  of  the  country,  he  endeavored  to 
win  over  his  companion  to  something  more  of  friendliness, 
Tie  was  a  gentle-spoken  youth;  and  this  coldness  on  ihu 
part  of  his  ancient  comrade  he  seemed  to  consider  unfair. 

"  We  used  to  be  great  friends,"  said  he  ;  "  but  I  sup- 
pose you  have  forgotten  all  that.  I  suppose  you  have  for- 
gotten the  time  when  Shena  Van  was  reaching  out  for  t  he 
branches  of  a  rowan-tree,  and  fell  into  the  burn  ?  " 

She  blushed  deeply  ;  but  there  was  the  same  cold  re- 
serve in  her  manner  as  she  said, 

u  That  was  a  long  time  ago." 

"  Sometime  ,"  said  he,  with  a  sort  of  gentleness  in  his  look, 
44  I  wish  your  father  had  never  gone  away  to  Strathaylort ; 
you  and  I  used  to  be  great  friends  at  one  time." 

"  Mv  father   is    well   oleased    with   Strathaylort,"    said 


YOLANDE.  327 

Miss  Stewart,  "  and  so  arc  we  all  ;  for  the  manse  is  larger, 
and  we  have  many  more  friends  in  Strathaylort.  And  the 
friends  we  left — well  1  suppose  they  can  remember  us  when 
they  wisli  to  remember  us." 

This  was  rather  pointed  ;  but  he  took  no  notice  of  it — lie 
was  so  anxious  to  win  his  companion  over  to  a  more  concil- 
iatory mood. 

"  And  are  you  as  fond  of  reading  poetry  as  ever  ?  "  said 
he,  regarding  her  ;  but  always  her  eyes  were  averted. 

"  Sometime  I  read  poetry,  as  I  read  other  things,''  she 
said  ;  "  but  with  my  sister  in  Inverness  and  my  brother  in 
Aberdeen,  I  am  very  often  visiting  now." 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  to  used  to  read  "  Iloratius  " 
aloud,  on  the  hill  above  Corrie-aa-eich  ?  And  the  bridge 
below  was  the  bridge  that  the  brave  Iloratus  kept  ;  and 
you  seemed  to  see  him  jump  into  the  Allt-crom,  not  the 
Tiber  at  all  ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  when  you  held  out 
your  finger  and  pointed — when 

"  be  saw  on  Palatinus 
The  white  Porch  of  his  homo ' — 

you  were  looking  at  the  zinc-roofed  coach-house  at  Allt- 
nam-Ba." 

"  I  was  very  silly  then,"  said  Shcna  Van,  with  red 
cheeks. 

"  And  when  you  were  Boadicea,  a  flock  of  sheep  did  very 
well  as  an  army  for  you  to  address  ;  only  the  collies  used  to 
think  you  were  mad.'5 

"  I -dare  say  they  were  right." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  Sword  Chant  of  Thorstein 
Raudi,  and  my  bringing  you  a  halberd  from  the  Towers — ' 
Might-Giver  !  I  kiss  thee  ;  '  *  Joy-Giver  !  I  kiss  thee;' 
*  Fame  Giver  !  I  kiss  thee,  ?  ' 

"  Indeed  you  have  a  wonderful  recollction,"  said  Miss 
Stewart.  "  I  should  think  it  was  time  to  forget  such  folly. 
As  one  grows  up  there  are  more  serious  things  to  attend  to. 
I  am  told  " — and  here,  for  the  first  time,  she  turned  her 
beautiful  dark  blue  eyes  to  him,  but  not  her  face  ;  so  that 
she  was  looking  at  him  rather  askance,  and  in  a  curious, 
interrogative,  and  at  the  same  time  half-combative  fashion — " 
I  am  told  that  you  are  about  to  be  married." 

Now  it  was  his  turn  to  be  embarrassed  ;  and  ho  did 
not  meet  those  too  searching  eyes. 

"  As  you  say,  Shena,  life  turns  out  to  have  serious  duties 


328  YOLANDR. 

and  not  to  be  quite  like  what  one  dreams  about  when  one 
is  young,"  he  observed,  somewhat  vaguely.  "  That  can't 
prevent  your  remembering  other  days  with  a  good  deal  of 
affection — " 

"  But  you  must  let  me  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Leslie," 
said  she,  sharply  bringing  him  to  his  senses.  "  And  if  the 
wedding  is  to  be  at  Lynn,  I  am  sure  my  father  would  be 
glad  to  come  over  from  Strathaylort." 

There  could  be  nothing  further  said  on  this  rather  awk- 
ward subject  just  at  the  moment,  for  they  had  arrived  at 
the  steamer,  and  he  had  to  go  and  hunt  out  the  clerk  to  in- 
trust him  with  those  small  commissions.  Then  he  rejoined 
Miss  Stewart,  and  set  out  for  the  town  again ;  but  while 
she  was  quite  civil  and  friendly  in  a  formal  fashion,  he  could 
not  draw  her  into  any  sort  of  conjoint  regarding  of  their 
youthful  and  sentimental  days.  Nay,  more ;  when  they  got 
back  to  the  bridge  she  intimated,  in  the  gentlest  and  most 
respectful  way,  that  she  would  rather  go  through  the  town 
alone;  and  so  he  was  forced  to  surrender  the  cruel  solace 
of  her  companionship. 

"  Good-by  Shena,"  said  he,  and  held  her  hand  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Leslie,"  said  she,  without  turning 
her  eyes  toward  him. 

Then  he  walked  away  by  the  side  of  the  river,  with  a 
general  sense  of  being  aggrieved  settling  down  on  him. 
Whichever  way  he  turned,  people  seemed  only  disposed  to 
thwart  and  controvert  him.  Surely  there  was  no  harm  in 
being  on  friendly  terms  with  Shena  Van,  and  in  reminding 
her  of  the  days  when  he  and  she  were  boy  and  girl  together  ? 
If  he  had  jilted  her,  she  would  have  good  grounds  for  be 
ing  vexed  and  angry;  but  he  had  not.  Nothing  in  that  di- 
rection had  ever  been  spoken  of  between  them.  It  is  true 
lie  had  at  one  time  been  very  much  in  love  with  her ;  and 
although  he  had  but  little  romance  in  his  character  (that  be- 
ing an  ingredient  not  likely  to  be  fostered  by  the  air  of  Ox- 
ford, or  by  the  society  of  the  young  officers  of  the  Seaforth 
Highlanders),  still  the  glamor  of  love  had  for  the  moment 
blinded  him,  and  he  had  seriously  contemplated  asking  her 
to  be  his  wife.  He  had  argued  with  himself  that  this  was 
no  stage  case  of  a  noble  lord  wedding  a  village  maiden, 
but  the  son  of  an  almost  penniless  peer  marrying  a  well  ac- 
complished young  lady  of  perfectly  respectable  parentage,  a 
young  lady  whose  beautiful  qualities  of  mind  were  known 


YOLANDR.  829 

only  to  a  few — only  to  one,  perhaps,  who  had  discovered 
them  by  looking  into  the  magic  mirror  of  a  pair  of  strangely 
dark  and  clear  blue  eyes.  The  infatuation  was  strong — for 
a  time  ;  but  when  pretty  Mrs.  Graham  came  to  learn  of  it 
there  was  trouble.  Now  the  master  of  Lynn  detested  trouble. 
Besides,  his  sister's  arguments  in  this  case  were  terribly 
cogent.  She  granted  that  Shena  Van  might  be  everything 
he  said,  and  quite  entitled,  by  her  intelligence  and  virtues 
and  amiabilities  of  character,  to  become  the  future  mistress 
of  Lynn  Towers.  But  she  had  not  a  penny.  And  was  all 
the  labor  that  had  been  bestowed  on  freeing  the  estate  from 
its  burdens  to  be  thrown  away?  Were  the  Leslies  to  re- 
main in  those  pinched  circumstances  that  prevented  their  tak- 
ing their  proper  place  in  the  country,  to  say  nothing  of  Lon- 
don ?  Mrs.  Graham  begged  and  implored  ;  there  was  some  dis- 
tant and  awful  thunder  on  the  part  of  his  lordship  ;  and  then 
Archie  Leslie  (who  hated  fuss)  began  to  withdraw  himself 
from  the  fatal  magnetism  of  those  dark  blue  eyes.  Nothing 
had  been  said  ;  Miss  Stewart  could  not  complain.  But  the 
beautiful  blue  eyes  had  a  measure  of  shrewdness  in  them  : 
she  may  have  guessed  ;  nay,  more,  she  may  have  hoped,  and 
even  cherished  her  own  little  romantic  dreams  of  affection. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  the  young  Master  of  Lynn  gave  way  to 
those  entreaties,  to  that  warning  of  storm.  When  his  sister 
said  he  was  going  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  he  got  angry, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  saw  as  clearly  as  she  that  Lynn  was 
starved  for  want  of  money.  And  although  love's  young 
dream  might  never  return  in  all  its  freshness  of  wonder  and 
longing,  still  there  were  a  large  number  of  pretty  and  hand- 
some young  women  in  this  country,  some  one  of  whom  (if 
her  eyes  had  not  quite  the  depth  and  clearness  of  the  eyes 
of  Shena  Van) might  look  very  well  at  the  head  of  the  dinner 
table  at  Lynn  Towers.  And  so  for  a  time  he  left  Lynn, 
and  went  away  to  Edinburgh  ;  and  if  his  disappointment  arid 
isolation  did  drive  him  into  composing  a  little  song  with  the 
refrain, 

"  O  Shena,  Shena,  my  heart  is  true 
To  you  where'er  you  go," 

that  was  only  the  last  up-flickering  flame  from  the  dost  and 
ashes  of  the  extinguished  romance  ;  and  the  Master  of  Lynn 
had  done  everything  that  was  required  of  him,  and  had  a 
fair  right  to  expect  that  his  relatives  would  remember  that 
in  the  future. 


330  YOLA.VDE. 

And  now  it  can  be  well  understood  Low,  as  he  walked 
alone  along  the  shores  of  the  wide  river,  he  should  feel  that 
he  had  been  ill-treated.  Not  even  Janet  Stewart's  friend- 
/hip  was  left  to  him.  He  had  looked  once  more  into  those 
blue  eyes ;  and  he  could  remember  them  shining  with 
laughter,  or  dilated  with  an  awful  majesty  as  Boadicea  ad 
dressed  an  army  of  sheep,  or  perhaps  softening  a  little  in 
farewell  when  he  was  going  away  to  Oxford  ;  but  now  there 
tvas  nothing  but  coldness.  She  did  not  caru  to  recall  the 
Did  days.  And  indeed,  as  he  walked  on  and  out  into  the 
country,  some  other  verses  that  he  had  learned  from  Sheua 
Van  in  those  by-gone  days  began  to  come  into  his  head,  and 
he  grew  in  a  way  to  compassionate  himself,  and  to  think  of 
himself  in  future  years  as  looking  back  upon  his  youth  with 
a  strange  and  pathetic  regret — mingled  with  some  other 
feelings. 

"  O,  mind  ye,  luve,  how  aft  we  lelt 

The  deavin',  dinsome  toun, 
To  wander  by  the  green  burn-side 

A n(l  hoar  its  water  croon  ? 
The  simmer  leaves  hung  ower  our  h 

The  flowers  burst  round  our  feet, 
And  in  the  gloamin'  o'  the  wood 

The  throssil  whusslit  sweet." 


"  O  dear,  dear  Jcanie  Morrison, 

Since  we  were  sindered  young 
I've  never  seen  your  face,  nor  heard 

The  music  o'  your  tongue; 
But  I  could  hug  all  wretchedness, 

And  happy  could  I  dee, 
Did  1  but  ken  your  heart  still  dreamed 

O'  by-gane  days  and  inel " 

These  were  some  of  the  lines  he  remembered  (they  were 
great  favorites  of  Shena  Van  in  former  times)  ;  but  instead 
of  this  compassionating  of  himself  by  proxy,  as  it  were, 
leading  him  to  any-  gentleness  of  feeling,  it  only  made  him 
the  more  bitter  and  angry.  "  I  have  had  enough  of  this — 
I  have  had  enough  of  it,"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself. 
"  Very  few  men  I  know  have  kept  as  straight  as  I  have. 
They'd  better  look  out.  I  have  just  about  enough  of  this." 
That  evening  he  dined  with  the  officers  at  Fort  George, 
nnd  drank  far  more  wine  than  he  usually  did — for  ho  was 
very  abstemious  in  that  direction.  After  dinner  he  pro- 
unlimited  loo  ;  but  more  moderate  counsels  prevailed, 


YOLAXDE.  331 

and  the  famili:ir  and  innocent  sixpenny  Nap  was  agreed 
upon.  Hut  even  at  this  mild  performance  you  can  lose  a 
fair  amount  if  you  persistently  "  go  Nap  "  on  almost  any 
sort  of  a  hand  that  turns  up. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A    GUESS. 

SOME  well-known  pieces  of  writing  have  described  to  us 
the  ecstatic  visions  vouchsafed  to  the  incipient  opium-eater, 
and  these,  or  some  of  these,  may  be  a  faithful  enough 
record.  At  all  events,  Yolande's  first  and  only  experience 
was  of  a  very  different  character.  All  through  that  terrible 
night  one  horror  succeeded  another,  and  always  she  felt  as 
if  she  were  bound  and  gagged — that  she  could  neither  flee 
away  from  those  hideous  things,  nor  shriek  out  her  fear  and 
cry  for  aid.  First  she  was  in  a  vast  forest  of  impenetrable 
gloom  ;  it  was  night,  and  yet  there  was  a  grayness  in  the 
open  glade  ;  there  was  no  sky  visible  ;  she  was  alone.  Then 
down  one  of  those  glades  came  a  slow  procession — figures 
walking  two  by  two  ;  and  at  first  she  thought  they  were 
monks,  but  as  she  came  nearer  she  could  sec  that  within 
each  cloak  and  hood  there  was  a  skeleton  with  eyes  of  white 
fire.  They  took  no  heed  of  her;  she  could  not  move;  in 
the  awful  silence  she  beheld  them  range  themselves  behind 
ihe  trunks  of  the  great  oaks,  and  although  they  were  now 
invisible,  it  appeared  to  her  that  she  could  still  see  their 
eyes  of  fire,  and  that  they  were  gazing  on  the  figure  of  a 
woman  that  now  drew  near.  The  woman  was  wringing 
her  hands ;  her  hair  was  dishevelled  ;  she  looked  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left.  And  then,  as  she  passed,  the 
spectres  came  out  two  by  two,  and  formed  a  crowd  and  fol- 
lowed her;  they  pressed  on  her  and  surrounded  her, 
though  she  did  not  seem  to  see  them;  it  was  a  doom  over- 
taking her.  The  night  grew  darker ;  a  funeral  song  was 
heard  far  away,  not  as  from  any  opening  heavens,  but 
within  the  black  hollows  of  the  wood — and  then  the  ghastly 
pageant  disappeared. 

Presently   she  was   in  a  white  world    of  snow  and  ice 


332  YOLANDE. 

and  a  frantic  despair  had  seized  her,  for  she  knew  that  she 
was  drifting  away  from  the  land.  This  wny  and  that  she 
tried  to  escape,  but  always  she  came  to  a  blue  impassable 
chasm.  She  tried  to  spring  from  one  side  to  the  other,  but 
something  held  her  back;  she  could  not  get  away.  There 
was  a  fire-mountain  there,  the  red  flames  looking  so  strange 
in  the  middle  of  the  white  world  ;  and  the  noise  of  the 
roaring  of  it  was  growing  fainter  and  more  faint  as  she 
floated  away  on  this  moving  ice.  The  sea  that  she  wag 
entering — she  could  see  it  far  ahead  of  her — was  black,  but 
a  thin  gray  mist  hung  over  it;  and  she  knew  that  once  she 
was  within  that  mist  she  would  see  nothing  more,  nor  be 
heard  of  more,  for  ever  and  ever.  She  tried  no  longer  to 
escape ;  horror  had  paralyzed  her ;  she  wanted  to  call 
aloud  for  help,  but  could  not.  Denser  and  denser  grew 
the  mist;  and  now  the  black  sea  was  all  around  her;  she 
was  as  one  already  dead ;  and  when  she  tried  to  think  ot 
those  she  was  leaving  forever,  she  could  not  remember 
them.  Her  friends?  the  people  she  knew  ?  she  could  re- 
member nothing.  This  vague  terror  and  hopelessness  filled 
her  mind;  otherwise  it  was  a  blank;  she  could  look,  but 
she  could  not  think  ;  and  now  the  black  waters  had  reached 
almost  to  her  feet,  and  around  her  were  the  impenetrable 
folds  of  air,  so  that  she  could  no  longer  see. 

And  so  she  passed  from  one  vision  of  terror  to  another  all 
through  the  long  night,  until  in  the  gray  of  the  morning  she 
slowly  awoke  to  a  sort  of  half-stupefied  consciousness.  She 
had  a  headache,  so  frightful  that  at  first  she  could  scarcely 
open  her  eyes ;  but  she  did  not  mind  that ;  she  was  over- 
joyed that  she  could  convince  herself  of  her  escape  from 
those  hideous  phantoms,  and  of  her  being  in  the  actual 
living  world.  Then  she  began  to  recollect.  She  thought 
of  what  she  had  done — perhaps  with  a  little  touch  of  pride, 
as  of  something  that  he  might  approve,  if  ever  he  should 
come  to  know.  Then,  though  her  head  was  throbbing  so 
dreadfully,  she  cautiously  opened  her  eyes  to  look  around. 

No  sooner  had  she  done  so  than  Jane,  who  was  awake, 
Btolc  noiselessly  to  her  young  mistress's  bedside.  Yolande 
made  a  gesture  to  insure  silence — for  she  saw  that  her 
mother  was  lying  asleep  ;  then  she  rose,  wrapped  a  shawl 
round  her,  and  slipped  out  of  the  room,  followed  by  her 
maid. 

"  W[iat  shall  I  get  yo'i,  miss? — I  have  kept  the  firo 
alight  il own-stairs.  I  can  get  you  a  cup  of  tea  in  a  minute." 


YOLANDE.  333 

"No,  no,  never  mind,"  said  Yolande,  pressing  her  hand 
to  her  head.  "  Tell  me  about  my  mother.  How  long  has 
ghe  been  asleep  ?" 

"  Not  very  long.  Oh,  she  lias  passed  a  dreadful  night — • 
the  poor  lady.  She  was  so  excited  at  first  I  thought  she 
would  have  killed  herself;  but  in  the  end  she  fairly  cried 
herself  to  sleep,  after  I  got  her  to  lie  down  on  the  bed. 
And  you  don't  feel  very  ill,  miss,  I  hope  ?  But  it  was  a 
terrible  thing  for  you  to  do." 

"What?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  said  Jane,  with  a  little 
embarrassment ;  "  but  I  guessed  what  you  had  done.  I 
guessed  from  what  the  poor  lady  said.  Oh,  you  won't  do 
that  again,  will  you  miss  ?  You  might  have  killed  yourself, 
and  then  what  ever  should  I  have  said  to  your  papa  ?  And  I 
don't  think  you  will  ever  have  need  to  do  it  again — I  heard 
what  the  poor  lady  kept  saying  to  herself;  you  won't  have 
to  do  any  such  terrible  thing  again  ;  she  declares  that  she 
will  kill  herself  before  you  have  cause  to  do  that  again." 

"  I  hope  there  won't  be  any  occasion,"  said  Yolande, 
calmly;  and  then  she  went  to  the  window. 

It  was  truly  a  miserable  morning — dull  and  gray  and 
overclouded  ;  and  it  had  rained  during  the  night ;  the  street 
and  the  terrace  were  sodden  and  wet  and  a  leaden-hued  sea 
tumbled  on  to  the  empty  beach.  But  notwithstanding  that, 
and  notwithstanding  her  headache,  Yolande  vaguely  felt 
that  she  had  never  looked  on  a  fairer  picture.  This  plain, 
matter-of-fact,  commonplace  world  was  such  a  beautiful 
thing  after  those  phantom  horrors  through  which  she  had 
passed.  She  liked  to  look  at  the  solid  black  boats  high  up 
on  the  shingle,  at  the  terraced  footway,  at  the  iron  railing 
alon<r  the  road.  She  began  to  wish  to  be  out  in  that  sub- 
stantial world  ;  to  see  more  of  it,  and  more  closely  :  per- 
haps the  cold  sea-breezes  would  temper  the  racking  pain  in 
her  head  ? 

"  Jane,"  said  she,  "do  you  think  you  could  slip  into  the 
room  and  bring  me  my  things  without  waking  my  mother?  " 

"But  you  are  not  going  out,  miss?  "said  the  maid, 
wondering,  "  The  night  is  scarcely  over  yet.  Won't  you 
go  back  and  lie  down  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  said  Yolande,  almost  with  a  shudder  of 
dread.  "  I  have  had  terrible  dreams — I  want  to  get  out- 
side— and  I  have  a  headache  besides.  Perhaps  the  fresh 
air  will  make  it  better.  But  you  can  lie  down,  Jane,  after 


334  YOLANDE. 

I  have  gone  ;  and  don't  wake  my  mother,  no  matter  how 
late  she  sleeps.  When  I  come  back,  perhaps  the  people  in 
the  house  will  be  up,  and  I  shall  try  to  take  some  break- 
fast—" 

"  I  could  get  it  for  you  now,  miss,"  said  Jane,  eagerly. 

"I  could  not  touch  it,"  the  girl  said,  shivering. 

The  maid  went  and  fetched  her  things  ;  and  when  she  had 
dressed  she  stole  noiselessly  down  the  stairs  and  got  out- 
side. How  cold  and  damp  the  air  felt !  but  yet  it  was  fresh 
and  new  and  strange  ;  the  familiar  sound  of  the  sea  seemed 
pleasant  and  companionable.  As  yet,  in  the  dull  gray 
dawn,  the  little  town  appeared  to  be  asleep ;  all  the  people 
she  could  find  as  she  passed  were  a  policeman  leaning 
against  a  railing  and  reading  a  newspaper,  two  men  work- 
ing at  the  roadway,  and  a  maid-servant  cleaning  the  win- 
dows of  a  first-floor  parlor.  She  walked  on,  and  pushed . 
back  the  hah  from  her  forehead  to  let  the  cold  sea  breeze 
dispel  this  racking  pain.  But  although  the  headache  was 
a  bad  one,  and  although  it  was  a  most  rare  thing  for  her  to 
know  what  a  headache  was,  still  it  did  not  depress  her. 
She  walked  on  with  an  increasing  gladness.  This  was  a  fine, 
real  world;  there  were  no  more  processions  of  skeletons,  or 
arctic  mists,  or  fields  covered  with  coffins.  This  was 
Worthing:  there  was  the  pier;  these  were  most  substantial 
and  actual  waves  that  came  rolling  in  until  they  thundered 
over  and  rushed  seething  and  hissing  up  the  beach.  More- 
over, was  there  not  a  gathering  sense  of  light  somewhere — 
as  if  the  day  were  opening  and  inclined  to  shine  ?  As  she 
walked  on  in  the  direction  of  Lower  Lancing  a  more  spa- 
cious view  of  sea  and  sky  opened  out  before  her,  and  it 
appeared  to  her  that  away  in  the  direction  of  Brighton  the 
clouds  seemed  inclined  to  band  up.  And  then,  gradually 
and  here  and  there,  faint  gleams  of  a  warmer  light  came 
shooting  over  from  the  east ;  and  in  course  of  time,  as  she 
still  followed  the  windings  of  the  shore,  the  rising  sun  shone 
level  along  the  sea,  and  the  yellow  brown  waves,  though 
their  curved  hollows  were  in  shadows  as  they  rolled  on  to 
the  beach,  had  silver-gleaming  crests,  and  the  wide  stretches 
of  retreating  foam  that  gurgled  and  hissed  down  the  shingly 
slopes  were  a  glare  of  cream  white  dazzling  to  the  eyes. 

She  walked  quickly — and  proudly.  She  had  played  a 
bold  game,  and  she  hoped  that  fche  might  win.  Kay,  nunv, 
she  was  prepared  to  play  it  again.  She  would  not  shrink  from 
any  tiacrifico.  It  was  with  no  light  heart  that  she  hud  uiiil.T- 


YOLANDE.  335 

taken  this  duty.  And  would  he  approve  ? — that  was  always 
her  secret  thought,  though  generally  she  tried  to  banish  all 
remembrances  of  what  was  by-gone.  Should  he  ever  conic 
to  know  of  what  she  had  done  ?  For  it  was  her  own  plan- 
ning. It  was  not  his  suggestion  at  all ;  probably,  if  he  had 
thought  of  such  a  means  of  terrorism,  he  would  not  have 
dared  to  recommend  it.  But  she  had  laid  this  plan  ;  and 
she  watched  her  opportunity ;  and  she  was  glad  that  some 
days  had  elapsed  before  that  Opportunity  had  occurred,  so 
that  her  mother  had  had  time  to  become  attached  to  her.  And 
what  if  that  once  did  not  suffice?  Well,  she  was  prepared 
to  go  on.  It  was  only  a  headache  (and  even  that  was 
quietly  lessening,  for  she  had  an  elastic  constitution,  and  was 
a  most  capable  walker).  What  were  a  few  headaches?  But 
no,  she  did  not  think  that  much  repitition  of  this  experiment 
would  be  necessary ;  she  could  not  believe  that  any  mother 
alive  could  look  on  and  see  her  daughter  poisoning  herself 
to  save  her. 

The  morning  cleared  and  brightened.  When  she  got 
to  Lancing  she  struck  inland  by  the  quiet  country  ways;  a 
kind  of  gladness  filled  her.  And  if  she  should  be  successful, 
after  all — if  the  thing  that  she  had  feared  was  to  turn  out  a 
beautiful  thing,  if  the  rescue  of  this  poor  mother  was  to  be 
her  reward — what  should  she  not  owe  him  who  had  told 
her  what  her  duty  was  !  He  had  not  been  afraid  to  tell 
her,  although  she  was  only  a  girl.  Ah,  and  where  was  he 
now?  Driven  away  into  banishment,  perhaps,  by  what 
had  happened  up  there  in  the  north,  through  her  blindness 
and  carelessness.  Once  or  twice  indeed,  during  these  long 
evenings,  she  had  followed  out  a  curious  fancy  that  perhaps 
his  crossing  the  Monalea  hills  to  catch  the  afternoon  train 
at  Kingussie  had  really  some  connection  with  her  coming 
south.  Had  he  wished  to  see  that  she  was  secure  and 
guarded,  now  that  she  was  embarked  on  an  errand  of  his 
suggestion  ?  It  pleased  her  to  think  of  him  being  in  the 
same  train.  Perhaps,  in  the  cold  gray  morning  at  Euston 
Station,  standing  backward  from  the  people,  he  had 
watched  her  get  into  the  cab  ;  perhaps  he  had  even  fol- 
lowed in  his  own  cab,  and  seen  her  enter  the  hotel?  Why 
should  he  have  hurried  to  catch  that  particular  train  ?  Why 
should  he  have  adopted  that  arduous  route  across  the  hills, 
unless  it  was  that  he  wished  to  travel  with  her,  and  yet 
without  her  knowing  it  ?  But  it  was  so  strange  he  should 


336  YOLANDE. 

make  this  long  journey  merely  to  see  that  she   was  safely 
lodged  in  her  hotel. 

Now  she  had  been  studying  this  matter  on  one  or  two 
occasions,  and  letting  her  fancy  play  about  it  with  a  strange 
curiosity  ;  but  it  was  on  this  particular  morning,  as  she  was 
entering  the  little  village  of  Sompting,  that  a  new  light  sud- 
denly flashed  in  on  her.  Who  was  it  who  had  told  Lawrence 
&  Lang  of  her  being  in  London  ?  Who  had  explained  to 
them  what  her  business  was?  who  had  asked  Mr.  Lang  to 
o  to  her  hotel  and  see  her?  Was  it  possible,  then,  that 
e  had  journeyed  to  London  in  that  same  train,  and  gone 
diiect  to  the  lawyer's  office,  so  that  she  should  have  their 
assistance  ?  He  knew  they  were  her  father's  lawyers,  for 
she  herself  had  told  him  to  whom  she  should  apply  in  case 
of  difficulty ;  whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  not  possi- 
ble for  her  father  to  have  written.  Had  he  been  guarding 
her,  then,  ami  watching  over  her  all  that  time — perhaps 
even  looking  on  ?  And  if  looking  on — Then,  in  a  breath- 
less kind  of  way,  she  recalled  the  circumstances  of  her  tak- 
ing her  mother  away.  She  had  been  disturbed  and  bewil- 
dered, no  doubt ;  still,  had  she  not  the  impression  of  some 
one  darting  by — some  one  who  felled  the  man  who  had 
seized  her  arm,  and  then  passed  quickly  by  ?  Surely  surely 
it  must  have  been  he.  Who  else  could  have  known  ?  Who 
else  could  have  interfered  ?  Her  heart  grew  warm  with  grati- 
tude toward  him.  Ah,  there  was  the  true  friend,  watch- 
ing over  her,  but  still  keeping  back,  and  unrequited  by  a 
single  word  of  thanks.  She  began  to  convince  herself  that 
this  must  have  been  so.  She  accused  herself  of  blindness 
that  she  had  not  seen  it  before.  And  for  how  long  had  his 
guardianship  continued  ?  When  had  he  gone  away  ? 
Perhaps — 

Then  her  face  grew  pale.  Perhaps  he  was  even  now  in 
Worthing,  still  exercising  this  invisible  care  over  her?  Per- 
haps she  might  meet  him,  by  some  accident,  in  the  street? 
She  stopped  short  in  the  road,  apparently  afraid  to  go  on. 
For  what  would  their  meeting  be,  if  such  a  meeting  were  to 
happen  ? — But  no,  it  would  not  happen — it  should  not  hap- 
pen. Even  if  he  were  in  Worthing  (and  she  tried  to  get 
rid  of  the  dreams  and  fancies  begotten  of  this  morning 
walk)  he  would  not  seek  to  see  her;  he  would  avoid  her 
rather ;  he  would  know,  as  well  as  she,  that  it  was  not  fit 
and  proper  that  tney  should  meet.  And  why  should  he  be 
in  Worthing  ?  His  guardianship  there  could  be  of  no  avail ,' 


YOLANDE, 

ihe  had  nothing  to  fear  in  any  direction  where   he  could 

help.  The  more  she  calmly  reviewed  the  possibilities  of 
the  case  the  more  she  considered  it  likely  that  he  had  indeed 
3ome  to  London  with  her ;  that  he  had  given  instructions 
to  the  lawyers ;  perhaps,  even,  that  he  had  been  present 
svhen  she  bore  her  mother  off ;  but  even  if  these  things  were 
50,  by  this  time  he  must  have  left,  perceiving  that  he  could 
io  no  more.  And  whither  ?  She  had  a  kind  of  dim  notion 
;hat  he  would  not  quickly  return  to  Gross.  But  whither, 
ihen — whither?  She  saw  him  an  outcast  and  a  wanderer, 
she  imagined  him  away  in  far  places,  and  the  morning 
jeemed  less  cheerful  now.  Her  face  grew  grave ;  she 
ivalked  firmly  on.  She  was  returning  to  her  appointed 
task,  and  to  any  trials  that  might  be  in  store  for  her  in  con- 
icction  with  it. 

She  was  getting  near  to  Broad  water,  when  she  saw 
ilong  the  road  a  pony-carriage  coming  quickly  in  her 
direction  ;  the  next  moment  she  perceived  that  her  mother 
svas  in  it,  and  that  Jane  (who  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
3ountry)  was  driving.  A  few  seconds  sufficed  to  bring 
;hem  to  her ;  and  then  the  mother,  who  seemed  much  cx- 
3ited,  got  out  from  the  trap  and  caught  her  daughter  by 
both  shoulders,  and  stroked  her  hair  and  her  face  in  a  sort 
:>f  delirium  of  joy. 

"  We  have  been  driving  everywhere  in  search  of  you — 
[  was  so  afraid.  Ah,  you  are  alive  and  well,  and  beautiful 
is" ever.  My  child,  my  child,  I  have  not  murdered  you!  "* 

11  Hush  mother,"  said  the  girl,  quite  calmly.  "  It  is  a 
pity  you  got  up  so  early.  I  came  out  for  a  walk,  because 
ny  head  was  bad  ;  it  is  getting  better  now.  I  will  drive 
you  back  if  you  like." 

She  drew  the  girl  aside  for  a  few  yards,  caressing  her 
inn  and  stroking  her  fingers. 

"My  child,  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  and  miserable;  but 
io  see  you  alive  and  well — I — I  was  in  despair — I  was  afraiu. 
But  you  need  not  fear  any  more,  Yolande,  you  need  not 
:ear  any  more." 

"I  hope  not,  mother," said  Yolande,  gravely,  ami  flic 
•egarded  her  mother.  "For  I  think  I  would  rather  die 
,han  go  through  again  such  a  night  as  last  night." 

"  But  you  need  not  fear — you  need  not  fear,0  said  the 
>ther,  pressing  her  hand.  "Oh  no  ;  when  I  saw  you  lying 
>n  the  bed  last  night,  then — then  I  seemed  to  know  what  I 


338  YOLANDE. 

was.  But  you  need  not  fear.  No,  never  again  will  you 
have  to  poison  yourself  in  order  to  shame  me." 

"  It  was  not  to  shame  you  mother ;  it  was  to  ask  you 
not  to  take  any  more  of  that — that  medicine." 

"  You  need  not  fear,  Yolande,  you  need  not  fear,"  she  re 
peated  eagerly.  "  Oh  no  ;  I  have  everything  prepared  now, 
I  will  never  again  touch  it ;  you  shall  never  have  to  sacri- 
fice yourslef  like  that — " 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  of  it,  dear  mother,  for  both  oursakes," 
Yolande  said.  ""l  hope  it  will  not  cost  you  much  suffer 
ing." 

"  Oh  no,  it  will  not  cost  me  much  suffering,"  said  the 
mother,  with  a  strange  sort  of  smile. 

Something  in  the  manner  attracted  her  daughter's  atten- 
tion. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  But  I  wish  you  to  understand,  Yolande,  that  you  need 
have  no  longer  any  fear — " 

"  You  have  promised,  mother." 

"  Yes  ;  but  did  I  not  promise  before  ?  Ah,  you — you,  so 
young,  so  strong,  so  self-reliant — -you  can  not  tell  how  weak 
one  can  be.  But  now  that  is  all  over.  This  time  I  know. 
This  time  I  can  tell  that  I  have  tasted  that  poison  for  the 
last  time — if  there  were  twenty  bottles  standing  by,  it  would 
not  matter." 

"  You  must  nerve  yourself,  mother — " 

"  Oh  but  I  have  made  it  secure  in  another  way,"  she 
said,  with  a  curious  smile. 

"  How,  then  ?  " 

"Well,  what  am  I  worth  in  the  world?  What  is  the 
value  of  my  life  ?  It  is  a  wreck  and  worthless ;  to  save  it  for 
a  week,  for  a  day,  would  I  let  you  have  one  more  headache, 
:md  be  driven  away  into  the  country  by  myself  like  this? 
Ah,  no,  Yolande  ;  but  now  you  are  secure  ;  there  will  be  no 
more  of  that.  When  I  feel  that  I  must  break  my  promise 
.".gain,  when  I  am  like  to  die  with  weakness  and — and  the 
craving,  then,  if  there  were  twenty  bottles  standing  by,  you 
need  not  fear,  tf  living  is  not  bearable,  then,  rather  than 
you  should  do  again  what  you  did  last  night,  I  will  kill  my- 
self— and  gladly." 

Yolande  regarded  her  with  the  same  calm  air. 

"And  that  is  the  end  you  have  appointed  for  me 
mother?" 


YOLANDE.  339 

Her  mother  was  stupified  for  a  second  ;  then  she  uttered 
a  short,  quick  cry  of  terror. 

"  Yolande,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  think  I  have  told  you,  mother,  that  I  mean  to  follow 

B)ur  example  in  all  things — to  the  end,  whatever  it  may  be. 
o  not  le*  us  speak  of  it." 

She  put  her  hand  on  her  mother's  arm,  and  led  her 
back  to  the  pony-carriage.  But  the  poor  woman  was  trem- 
bling violently.  This  terrible  threat  had  quite  unnerved  her. 
It  had  seemed  to  her  easy — if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst, 
if  she  could  control  her  craving  no  longer — that,  sooner 
than  her  daughter  should  be  sacrificed,  she  herself  should 
throw  away  this  worthless  fragment  of  existence  that  re- 
mained to  her.  And  now  Yolande's  manner  frightened  her. 
This  easy  way  of  escape  was  going  to  produce  the  direst  of 
catastrophes.  She  regarded  the  girl — who  was  pre-occupied 
and  thoughtful,  and  who  allowed  Jane  to  continue  to  drive 
— all  the  way  back;  and  there  was  something  in  her  look 
that  sent  the  conviction  to  her  mother's  heart  that  that  had 
been  no  idle  menace. 

When  they  got  back  to  Worthing,  Yolande  set  about 
the  usual  occupations  of  the  day  with  her  accustomed  com- 
posure, and  even  with  a  measure  of  cheerfulness.  She 
seemed  to  attach  little  importance  to  the  incident  that  had 
just  happened  ;  and  probably  wished  her  mother  to  under- 
stand that  she  meant  to  see  this  thing  through,  as  she  had 
begun  it.  But  it  was  pitiable  to  see  the  remorse  on  the 
mother's  face  when  a  slight  contraction  of  Yolande's  brows 
told  that  from  time  to  time  her  head  still  swam  with  pain. 

Tho  first  hamper  of  game  arrived  from  the  north  that 
day  ;  and  it  was  with  a  curious  interest  that  the  mother  (who 
was  never  done  wondering  at  her  daughter's  knowledge  and 
accomplishments  and  opinions)  listened  to  all  that  Yolande 
could  tell  her  about  the  various  birds  and  beasts.  As  yet 
the  ptarmigan  showed  no  signs  of  donning  their  winter 
plumage  ;  but  the  mountain  hares  here  and  there — especially 
about  the  legs — showed  traces  of  white  appearing  under- 
neath the  brownish-gray.  Both  at  the  foot  and  at  the  top 
of  the  hamper  was  a  thick  bed  of  stag's-horn  moss  (which 
grows  in  extraordinary  luxuriance  at  Alt-nam-Ba),  and  Yo- 
lande guessed — and  guessed  correctly — that  Duncan,  who 
had  observed  her  on  one  or  two  occasions  bring  home  some 
of  that  moss,  had  fancied  that  the  young  lady  would  like  to 
have  some  sent  to  her  to  the  south.  And  she  wondered 


340  YOLANDE. 

whether  there  was  any  other  part  of  the  world  where 
people  were  so  thoughtful  and  so  kind,  even  to  visitors  who 
were  almost  strangers  to  them. 

At  night,  when  Yolande  went  into  the  bedroom,  she 
uoticed  that  there  was  no  bottle  on  the  mantel-piece. 

"Where  is  it,  mother  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  have  thrown  it  away.  You  need  not  fear  now, 
Yolande,"  her  mother  said.  And  then  she  regarded  her 
daughter.  *'  Don't  mind  what  I  said  this  morning,  child. 
It  was  foolish.  If  I  can  not  bear  the  suffering  well,  it  can  not 
be  so  hard  a  thing  to  die ;  that  must  come  if  one  waits." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  die,  mother."  said  Yolande,  gently 
patting  her  on  the  shoulder.  "  You  are  going  to  live  ;  for 
some  day,  as  soon  as  you  are  strong  enough,  you  and  I  are 

foing  to  Nice,  to  drive  all  the  way  along  to  Genoa  ;  and  I 
now  all  the  prettiest  places  to  stop  at.  But  you  must  have 
courage  and  hope  and  determination.  And  you  must  get 
well  quickly,  mother  ;  for  I  should  like  to  go  away  with 
you  ;  it  is  such  a  long,  long  time  sence  I  smelt  the  lemon 
blossom  in  the  air." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A   MESSAGE. 

As  subsequent  events  were  to  prove,  Yolande  had,  by 
this  one  bold  stroke,  achieved  the  victory  she  had  set  her 
heart  upon.  But  as  yet  she  could  not  know  that.  She 
could  not  tell  that  the  frantic  terror  of  the  poor  mother  at 
the  thought  that  she  might  have  killed  her  only  child  would 
leave  an  impression  strong  enough  to  be  a  sufficient  safe- 
guard. Indeed,  she  could  see  no  end  to  the  undertaking  on 
fc'hich  she  had  entered;  but  she  was  determined  to  prose- 
:ute  that  with  unfailing  patience,  and  with  the  hope  in  the 
dual  result ;  and  also,  perhaps,  with  the  consciousness  that 
this  immediate  duty  absorbed  her  from  the  consideration 
oi  other  problems  of  her  life. 

But  while  she  tried  to  shut  up  all  her  cares  and  interests 
williiii  this  little  town  of  Worthing — devising  new  amuse- 
and  occupations,  keeping  her  mother  as  much  as 


YOLANDE.  341 

sible  in  tho  open  air,  and  lightly  putting  aside  the  poor 
woman's  remorse  over  the  incidents  of  that  critical  night — • 
there1  came  to  her  reminders  from  the  outer  and  farthci 
world.  Among  these  was  the  following  letter  from  the 
Master  of  Lynn,  which  she  read  with  strangely  diverse  emo- 
tions contending  for  mastery  in  her  mind  : 

"STATION  HOTEL,  INVERNESS,  October 2. 

"  MY  DEAREST  YOLANDE, — It  is  only  this  morning  that 
I  have  got  your  address  from  Allt-nam-Ba ;  and  I  write  at 
once,  though  perhaps  you  will  not  care  to  be  bothered  with 
much  correspondence  just  at  present.  Your  father  has  told 
me  what  has  taken  you  to  the  south,  and  indeed  I  had 
guessed  something  of  the  kind  from  the  note  you  sent  me 
when  you  were  leaving.  I  hope  you  are  well,  and  not  over- 
troubled  ;  and  when  you  have  time  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
a  line  from  you — though  I  shall  not  misconstrue  your  silence 
if  you  prefer  to  be  silent.  In  fact,  I  probably  should  not 
write  to  you  now  but  that  your  father  is  leaving  Allt-nam- 
Ba  shortly,  and  I  suppose  he  will  see  you  as  soon  as  he  goes 
south,  and  I  think  I  am  bound  to  give  you  some  explanation 
as  to  how  matters  stand.  No  doubt  he  will  think  it  strange 
that  I  have  rather  kept  out  of  his  way,  and  very  likely  he 
will  be  surprised  that  my  father  has  never  called  at  the 
lodge,  or  shown  any  sign  of  civility,  and  so  forth.  Well, 
the  plain  truth  is,  dear  Yolande,  that  I  have  quarrelled  with 
my  father,  if  that  can  be  called  a  quarrel  which  is  all  on  one 
side — for  I  simply  retire,  on  my  part,  and  seek  quiet  in  an 
Inverness  hotel.  The  cause  of  the  quarrel,  or  estrangement 
is  that  is  he  opposed  to  our  marriage ;  and  he  has  been  put  up 
to  oppose  it,  I  imagine,  chiefly  by  my  aunt,  the  elderly  and 
agreeable  lady  whom  you  will  remember  meeting  at  the 
Towers.  I  think  I  am  bound  in  honor  to  let  you  know  this  ; 
not  that  it  in  the  least  affects  you  or  me,  as  far  as  our  mar- 
riage is  concerned,  for  I  am  old  enough  to  manage  my  own 
affairs ;  but  in  order  to  explain  a  discourtesy  which  may 
very  naturally  have  offended  your  father,  and  also  to  ex- 
plain why  I,  feeling  ashamed  of  the  whole  business,  have 
rather  kept  back,  and  so  failed  to  thank  your  father,  as 
otherwise  I  should  have  done,  for  his  kindness  to  me.  Of 
course  I  knew  very  well,  when  we  became  engaged  in  Egypt, 
that  my  father,  whose  political  opinions  are  of  a  fine  old 
crusted  order,  would  be  rather  aghast  at  my  marrying  tha 


342  YOLANDE. 

daughter  of  the  Member  of  Slagpool ;  but  I  felt  sure  that 
when  he  saw  you  and  knew  you,  dear  YolamU1,  lie  would 
have  no  objection  ;  and  indeed  I  did  not  anticipate  that  the 
eloquence  of  my  venerated  aunt  would  have  deprived  him 
of  the  use  of  his  senses.  One  ought  not  to  write  so  of  one's 
parent,  I  know  ;  but  facts  are  facts  ;  and  if  you  are  driven 
out  of  your  own  home  through  the  bigotry  of  an  old 
man  and  the  cattish  temper  of  an  old  woman,  and  if 
you  have  the  most  angelic  of  sisters  take  to  nagging  at  you 
with  letters,  and  if  you  are  forced  into  sweet  seclusion  of  a 
hotel  adjoining  a  railway  station,  then  the  humor  of  the 
whole,  affair  begins  to  be  apparent,  and  you  may  be  inclined 
to  call  things  by  their  real  names.  I  have  written  to  your 
father  to  say  that  he  need  not  bother  about  either  the  dogs 
or  horses;  when  he  has  left  I  will  run  down  to  Allt-nam-Ba 
and  see  them  sent  off ;  but  I  have  not  told  him  why  I  am  at 
present  in  Inverness;  and  I  tell  you,  my  dear  Yolande,  be- 
cause I  think  you  ought  to  know  exactly  how  matters  stand. 
I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  to  hear  from  you  that  you 
had  imagined  something  of  the  state  of  the  case ;  for  you 
must  have  wondered  at  their  not  asking  you  and  your 
father  to  dinner,  or  something  of  the  kind,  after  Polly  taking 
you  to  the  Towers  when  you  first  came  north  ;  but,  at  all 
events,  this  is  how  we  are  situated  now,  and  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  make  a  joke  of  the  whole  affair  if  it  were  not  that 
when  I  think  of  you  I  feel  a  little  bit  indignant.  Of  course 
it  can  cot  matter  to  you — not  in  the  least.  It  is  disagree- 
able, that  is  all.  If  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite,  it  does 
not  much  matter  so  long  as  they  keep  their  barking  and 
biting  among  themselves.  It  is  rather  hard,  certainly,  when 
they  take  possession  of  your  house,  and  turn  you  out  into 
the  street;  especially  when  you  have  a  lovely  sistor  come 
and  accuse  you  of  having  no  higher  ambition  in  life  than 
playing  billiards  with  commercial  travellers. 

"I  shall  hang  on  here,  I  expect,  until  our  other  tenants 
— they  who  have  the  forest — leaves  for  the  south  ;  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  make  some  final  aiTangements  with  our 
agent  here-;  after  which  I  shall  consider  myself  free.  You 
must  tfll  me,  dear  Yolande,  when  and  where  you  wish  to 
see  me.  Of  course  I  don't  wish  to  inconvenience  or  trouble 
you  in  any  way — I  shall  leave  it  entirely  in  your  hands  as 
to  what  you  would  have  me  do.  Perhaps,  if  I  go  away  for 
a  while,  the  people  at  Lynn  may  come  to  their  senses. 
Polly  has  been  at  them  once  or  twice;  she  is  a  warm  ally 


YOLANDE.  843 

of  yours ;  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  would  not  have  you 
made,  the  subject  of  any  appeal.  No  word  of  that  kind 
shall  come  from  me.  Most  likely  when  the  last  of  the 
people  that  the  Grahams  have  witli  them  at  Inverstnoy  have 
gone,  Polly  may  go  over  to  Lynn  and  establish  herself 
there,  and  have  a  battle  royal  with  my  revered  aunt.  Of 
course  I  would  not  bother  you  with  the  details  of  this 
wretched  family  squabble  if  I  did  not  think  that  some  ex 
planation  were  due  i>oth  to  you  and  to  your  father. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you,  if  you  are  not  too 
much  occupied.  Yours,  affectionately, 

"ARCHIE  LESLIE. 

"P.S. — I  hope  to  be  able  to  leave  here  about  the  22d." 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  rush  away  at  once  and  tele- 
graph to  him,  begging  him  not  to  come  south;  but  a 
moment's  reflection  .showed  her  that  was  unnecessary.  She 
re-read  the  letter;  there  was  nothing  of  the  impetuosity  of 
a  lover  in  it,  but  rather  a  studied  kindness,  and  also  a  reti- 
cence with  regard  to  her  present  surroundings  and  occupa- 
tions that  she  could  not  but  respect.  For  she  knew  as  well 
as  any  one  that  this  matter  concerned  him  too ;  and  she 
could  even  have  forgiven  a  trace  of  apprehension  on  his 
part,  seeing  that  a  young  man  about  to  marry  is  naturally 
curious  about  the  new  conditions  that  are  to  surround  him. 
His  silence  on  this  point  seemed  part  of  the  careful  conside- 
ration  that  prevailed  throughout  this  message  to  her.  Then 
it  was  so  clear  that  he  would  be  ruled  by  her  wishes.  He 
was  not  coming  to  claim  her  by  the  right  he  had  acquired. 
She  could  put  away  this  letter"  for  future  consideration,  as 
she  had  for  the  moment  put  aside  her  engagement  ring. 
While  she  was  first  reading  it,  some  strange  fancies  and 
feelings  had  held  possession  of  her — a  quick  contrition,  a 
desire  to  tell  him  everything,  and  so  release  herself  from 
this  bond,  a  remonstrance  with  herself,  and  a  vague  kind  of 
hope  that  she  might  make  atonement  by  a  life-long  devo- 
tion to  him,  after  this  first  duty  to  her  mother  had  been 
accomplished.  But  these  conflicting  resolves  she  forced 
herself  to  discard.  She  would  not  even  answer  this  letter 
now.  There  was  no  hurry.  He  would  not  come  to 
Worthing  if  she  did  not  wish  it.  And  was  it  not  fortu- 
nate that  she  could  turn  aside  from  unavailing  regrets,  and 
from  irresolute  means  and  purposes,  to  the  actual  needs  of 
the  moment?  She  calmly  put  the  letter  in  her  pocket,  and 


344  YOLANDE.  * 

went  away  to  see  whether  her  mother  were  not  ready  for 
her  morning  drive.  And  now  it  had  come  to  pass  that 
whenever  Yolande  drew  near  there  was  a  look  of  affection 
and  gratitude  in  this  poor  woman's  eyes  that  made  the 
girl's  heart  glad. 

Day  after  day  passed  ;  the  weather  happened  to  be  fine, 
and  their  exploration  of  the  surrounding  country  was  un- 
wearied. The  castles  of  Arundel  and  Bramber,  the  parks 
of  Augmering  and  Bad  worth,  Harrow  Hill,  Amberley  Wild 
Brook,  Sullington,  Washington,  Storrington,  Ashington— 
they  knew  them  all ;  and  they  had  so  educated  the  wise 
old  pony  that,  when  Jane  was  not  with  them,  and  they 
were  walking  along  by  the  hedgeways  or  climbing  a  hill, 
they  could  safely  leave  him  and  the  pony-carriage  far  be- 
hind them,  knowing  that  lie  would  come  up  at  his  leisure, 
keeping  his  own  side  of  the  road,  and  refusing  to  be 
tempted  by  the  greenest  of  way-side  patches.  Yolande, 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  was  always  on  the  watch,  and 
carefully  concealed  the  fact.  But  now  she  was  beginning 
less  and  less  to  fear,  and  more  and  more  to  hope ;  nay,  at 
times,  and  rather  in  spite  of  herself,  a  joyful  conviction 
would  rest  upon  her  that  she  had  already  succeeded.  Four 
days  after  that  relapse,  a  desperate  fit  of  depression  over- 
took the  poor  woman ;  but  she  bravely  fought  through  it. 

"  You  need  not  fear  this  time,  Yolande,"  she  would  say, 
with  a  sad  smile.  "  I  said  that  once  before,  but  I  did  not 
know  then.  I  had  not  seen  you  lying  on  the  bed — perhaps 
dying,  as  I  thought.  You  shall  have  no  more  headaches 
through  me." 

"  Ah,  dear  mother,"  said  Yolande,  "  in  a  little  time  you 
will  not  even  think  of  such  things.  You  will  have  forgotten 
them.  It  will  be  all  like  a  dream  to  you." 

**  Yes,  like  a  dream — like  a  dream,"  the  other  said,  ab- 
sently. "  It  was  in  a  dream  that  you  came  to  me.  I  could 
not  understand — I  heard  you,  but  I  could  not  understand. 
And  then  it  seemed  that  you  were  leading  me  away,  but  I 
scarcely  knew  who  you  were.  And  the  evening  in  the  hotel, 
when  you  were  showing  me  your  things,  I  could  scarcely 
believe  it  all ;  and  when  you  said  you  would- get  me  a  dress- 
ing-bag, I  asked  myself  why  I  should  take  that  from  a  stran- 
ger. You  were  so  new  to  me — and  tall — and  so  beautiful 
— it  was  a  kind  of  wonder — I  could  not  think  you  were  in- 
deed my  own  daughter,  but  a  kind  of  angel,  and  I  was  glad 
to  follow  you." 


YOLANDE.  345 

"  Well.  I  carried  you  off,"  said  Yolande,  plainly  (for  she 
did  not  like  to  encourage  fantasy).  u  There  is  no  mistake 
about  it ;  and  I  shall  not  let  you  go  bark  to  those  friends  of 
yours,  who  were  not  at  all  good  friends  to  you;  that  also  is 
quite  certain." 

"  Oh,  no,  no?"  she  would  say,  grasping  the  girl's  hand. 
"  I  am  not  going  back — never,  never,  to  that  house!  You 
need  not  fear  now,  Yolande." 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  this  poor  woman 
was  greatly  astonished  that  Yolande  should  know  so  much, 
and  should  have  seen  so  much,  and  read  so  many  different 
things.  And  this  proved  to  be  a  field  of  quite  unlimited 
interest ;  for  there  was  not  a  single  opinion  or  experience  of 
the  girl  that  she  did  not  regard  with  a  strange  fascination 
and  sympathy.  Whether  Yolande  was  relating  to  her  leg- 
endary stories  of  Brittany,  of  which  she  knew  a  good  many, 
or  describing  the  lonely  streets  of  Pompeii,  or  telling  her  of 
the  extraordinary  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  in  Washington 
(the  physical  atmosphere,  that  is),  she  listened  with  a  kind 
of  wonder,  and  with  the  keenest  curiosity  to  know  more  and 
more  of  this  young  life  that  had  grown  up  apart  from  hers. 
And  then  Yolande  so  far  wandered  from  the  path  of  virtue 
— as  laid  down  by  her  father — as  sometimes  to  read  aloud 
in  French  ;  and  while  she  frequently  halted  and  stumbled  in 
reading  aloud  in  English,  there  never  was  any  stumbling, 
but  rather  a  touch  of  pride,  when  she  was  pronouncing 
such  sonoroub  line  as  this — 

"  La  vastc  mere  murinure  autour  tie  son  ccrcueil," 

and  it  was  strange  to  the  poor  mother  that  her  daughter 
should  be  more  at  home  in  reading  French  than  reading 
English.  She  would  ask  the  minutest  questions — about  Yo- 
lande's  life  at  the  Chateau,  about  her  life  on  board  ship 
during  her  various  voyages,  about  her  experiences  in  those 
mountain  solitudes  of  the  north.  Her  anxiety  to  be  always 
in  the  society  of  her  daughter  was  insatiable ;  she  could 
scarcely  bear  to  have  her  out  of  sight.  And  when  Lawrence 
&  Lang  sent  her,  in  the  course  of  time,  her  usual  allowance 
of  money,  her  joy  was  extreme.  For  now,  whenever  she 
and  Yolande  went  out,  she  scanned  the  shop  windows  with 
an  eager  interest,  and  always  she  was  buying  this,  that,  or 
the  other  trinket,  or  bit  of  pretty-colored  silk,  or  something 
of  the  kind  for  the  girl  to  wear.  Yolande  had  rather  seven* 


346  YOLANDE. 

notions  in  the  way  of  personal  adornment ;  but  she  was  well 
content  to  put  a  bit  of  color  round  her  neck  or  an  additional 
silver  hoop  round  her  wrist  when  she  saw  the  pleasure  in 
her  mother's  eyes. 

At  length  she  felt  justified  in  sending  the  following  let> 
ter  to  her  father  : 

"  WORTHING,  October  12 . 

"  MY  DEAR  PAPA, — I  intend  this  to  reach  you  before 
you  leave  Allt-nam-Ba,  because  it  carries  good  news,  and  I 
know  you  have  been  anxious.  I  think  every  thing  goes  well 
— sometimes  I  am  quite  sure  of  it — sometimes  I  look  forward 
to  such  a  bright  future.  It  has  been  a  great  struggle  and 
pain  (but  not  to  me  ;  please  do  not  speak  of  me  at  all  in 
your  letters,  because  that  is  nothing  at  all),  but  I  have  not 
so  much  fear  now.  Perhaps  it  is  too  soon  to  be  certain ; 
but  I  can  not  explain  to  you  in  a  letter  what  it  is  that  gives 
me  such  hope,  that  drives  away  what  reason  suggests,  and 
compels  me  to  think  that  all  will  be  well.  Partly  it  is  my 
mother's  look.  There  is  an  assurance  in  it  of  her  determi- 
nation— of  her  feeling  that  all  is  safe  now ;  again  and  again 
she  says  to  me,  "  I  have  been  in  a  dream,  but  now  I  am 
come  out  of  it.  You  need  not  fear  now."  Mr.  Melville  said 
I  was  not  to  be  too  sanguine,  and  always  to  be  watchful ; 
and  I  try  to  be  that ;  but  I  can  not  fight  against  the  joyful 
conviction  that  my  mother  is  now  safe  from  that  thing. 
Only  she  is  so  weak  and  ill  yet — she  tries  to  be  brave  and 
cheerful,  to  give  me  comfort  ;  but  she  suffers.  Dear  papa, 
it  is  madness  that  you  should  reproach  yourself  for  doing 
nothing,  and  propose  to  take  us  to  the  Mediterranean.  No, 
no  ;  it  will  not  do  at  all.  My  mother  is  too  weak  yet  to  go 
anywhere;  when  she  is  well  enough  to  go  I  will  take  her; 
but  I  must  take  her  alone  ;  she  is  now  used  to  me  ;  there 
must  be  no  such  excitement  as  would  exist  if  you  were  to 
come  for  us.  I  am  very  thankful  to  Mr.  Shorthands  that 
you  are  going  to  Dalescroft ;  and  I  hope  you  will  find  charm- 
ing people  at  his  house,  and  also  that  the  shooting  is  good. 
Dear  papa,  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  go  over  to  Slag- 
pool  while  you  are  in  the  north;  and  perhaps  you  might 
give  an  address  or  deliver  a  lecture — there  are  many  of  the 
members  doing  that  now,  as  I  see  by  the  newspapers  and 
you  owe  something  to  your  constituents  for  not  grumbling 
about  your  going  to  Egypt. 


\or.A\DR.  847 

"  I  hope  everything  lias  boon  comfortable  at  the  lodge 
since  I  loft ;  but  that  1  am  sure  of,  for  Mrs.  Bell  would  take 
care.  You  must  buy  her  something  very  pretty  when  you 
got  to  Inverness,  and  send  it  to  her  as  from  you  and  me 
together — something  very  pretty  indeed,  papa,  for  she  was 
very  kind  to  mo,  and  I  would  not  have  her  faney  that  one 
forgets.  Mr.  Leslie  says  in  a  letter  that  he  will  see  to  the 
ponies  and  dogs  being  sent  off,  so  that  you  need  have  no 
trouble  ;  he  is  at  the  Station  Hotel,  as  probably  you  know, 
if  you  wish  to  call  and  thank  him.  I  remember  Duncan 
saying  that  when  the  dogs  were  going  he  would  take  them 
over  the  hills  to  Kingussie,  and  go  with  them  by  the  train 
as  far  as  Perth,  where  he  has  relatives,  and  there  he  coujd 
see  that  the  dogs  had  water  given  them  in  the  morning. 
But  you  will  yourselves  take  them,  perhaps,  from  Inver- 
ness ?  Another  small  matter,  dear  papa,  if  you  do  not 
mind  the  trouble,  is  this — would  you  ask  some  one  to  pack 
up  for  me  and  send  here  the  boards  and  drying-paper  and 
hand-press  that  I  had  for  the  wild  flowers  ?  We  go  much 
into  the  country  here,  and  have  plenty  of  time  in  the  even- 
ing ;  and  my  mother  is  so  much  interested  in  any  pursuit 
of  mine  that  this  would  be  an  additional  means  of  amusing 
her.  You  do  not  say  whether  you  have  heard  anything 
farther  of  Mr.  Melville. 

"  Do  not  think  I  am  sad,  or  alone,  or  repining,  Oh  no ;  I 
am  very  well;  and  I  am  very  happy  when  I  see  my  mother 
pleased  with  me.  We  do  a  hundred  things — examine  the 
shop  windows,  walk  on  the  pier  or  along  the  promenade, 
or  we  drive  to  different  places  in  the  country,  and  some- 
times we  have  lunch  at  the  old-fashioned  inns,  and  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  people — so  good-natured  they  are, 
and  well  pleased  with  their  own  importance  ;  but  I  do  not 
understand  them  always,  and  my  mother  laughs.  We  call 
the  pony  Bertrand  du  Guesclin  ;  I  do  not  remember  how  it 
happened ;  but,  at  all  events,  he  is  not  as  adventurous  as 
the  Connetable  :  he  is  too  wise  to  run  any  risks.  But  when 
I  am  quite  sure,  and  it  my  mother  is  well  enough  for  tee 
fatigue  of  the  voyage,  I  think  I  will  take  her  to  the  south 
of  France,  and  then  along  the  Rivera,  for  I  fear  the  winter 
here,  and  she  so  delicate.  Dear  papa,  you  say  I  am  not  to 
mind  the  expense  ;  very  well,  you  see  I  am  profiting  by  your 
mands.  In  the  meantime  I  would  not  dare.  I  try  to  keep 
•lown  my  excitement ;  we  amuse  ourselves  with  the  shops 
with  the  driving,  and  what  not ;  it  is  all  simple,  pleasant* 


348  YOLANDE. 

and  I  wait  for  the  return  of  her  strength.  Yes,  I  can  see 
she  is  much  depressed  sometimes ;  and  then  it  is  that  she 
has  been  accustomed  to  fly  for  relief  to  the  medicines ;  but 
now  I  think  that  is  over,  and  the  best  to  be  looked  forward 
to.  Yes,  in  spite  of  caution,  in  spite  of  reason,  I  am  already 
almost  assured.  There  is  something  in  her  manner  toward 
me  that  convinces  me ;  there  is  a  sympathy  which  has 
grown  up  ;  she  looks  at  me  as  she  does  not  look  at  any  one 
else,  and  I  understand.  It  is  this  that  convinces  me. 

"  Will  you  give  a  farewell  gift  to  each  of  the  servants, 
besides  their  wages  ?  I  think  they  deserve  it ;  always  they 
helped  me  greatly,  and  were  so  willing  and  obliging,  in- 
stead of  taking  advantage  of  my  ignorance.  I  would  not 
have  them  think  that  I  did  not  recognize  it,  and  was  un- 
grateful. And  please,  papa,  get  something  very  pretty  for 
Mrs.  Bell.  I  do  not  know  what :  something  she  could  be 
proud  to  show  to  Mr.  Melville  would  probably  please  her 
best.  Write  to  me  when  you  get  to  Dalescourt. 

"Your  affectionate  daughter,  YOLANDE." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Yolande  made  these  repeated 
references  to  Mr.  Melville  with  the  vague  expectation  of 
learning  that  perhaps  he  had  returned  to  Gross.  But  if 
that  was  her  impression  she  was  speedily  undeceived.  The 
very  next  morning,  as  she  went  down  into  the  small  lobby, 
she  saw  something  white  in  the  letter-box  of  the  door.  The 
bell  had  not  been  rung,  so  that  the  servant-maid  had  not 
taken  the  letter  out.  Yolande  did  so,  and  saw  that  it  was 
addressed  to  herself — in  a  handwriting  that  she  instantly 
recognized.  With  trembling  fingers  she  hastily  broke  open 
the  envelope,  and  then  read  these  words,  written  in  pencil 
across  a  sheet  of  note-paper  : 

"You  have  done  well.  You  will  succeed.  But  be 
patient.  Good-by.  J.  M." 

She  stood  still — bewildered — her  heart  beating  quickly. 
Had  he  been  there  all  the  time,  then  ? — always  near  her, 
watching  her,  guarding  her,  observing  the  progress  of  the 
experiment  he  had  himself  suggested  ?  And  now  whither 
had  he  gone — without  a  word  of  thanks  and  gratitude  ?  Her 
mother  was  coming  down  the  stairs.  She  quickly  concealed 
the  letter,  and  turned  to  meet  her.  In  the  dusk  of  this 
lobby  the  mother  observed  nothing  strange  or  unusual  in 
the  look  of  her  daughter's  face. 


YOLANDE.  840 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

A  LAST   INTERVENTION. 

IT  has  already  been  said  of  Mrs.  Graham,  as  of  "iier 
brother,  that  she  was  not  altogether  mercenary.  She  had 
a  certain  share  of  sentiment  in  her  composition.  It  is  true, 
she  had  summarily  stamped  out  the  Master's  boyish  fancies 
with  regard  to  Janet  Stewart;  but  then,  on  the  other  hand 
(when  the  danger  to  the  estates  of  Lynn  was  warded  off), 
she  could  afford  to  cherish  those  verses  to  Shena  Van  with 
a  sneaking  fondness.  Nay,  more  than  that,  she  paid  them 
the  compliment  of  imitation — unknown  to  her  husband  and 
everybody  else ;  and  it  may  be  worth  while  to  print  this, 
her  sole  and  only  literary  effort,  if  only  to  show  that,  just 
as  seamstresses  imagine  the  highest  social  circles  to  be  the 
realm  of  true  romance,  and  like  to  be  told  of  the  woes  and 
joys  of  high-born  ladies,  so  this  pretty  Mrs.  Graham,  being 
the  only  daughter  of  a  nobleman,  when  casting  about  for  a 
properly  sentimental  situation,  must  needs  get  right  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  social  ladder,  and  think  it  line  to  speak 
of  herself  as  a  sailor's  lass.  One  small  touch  of  reality  re- 
mained— the  hero  she  named  Jim  But  here  are  the  versec 
to  speak  for  themselves  : 

"  I  care  not  a  fig  for  your  brag,  you  girls 

And  dames  of  high  degree, 
Or  for  all  your  silks  and  satins  and  pearls, 

As  fine  as  fine  may  be  ; 
For  I'll  be  as  rich  as  dukes  and  earls 

When  my  Jim  comes  home  from  sea. 

"  It's  in  Portsmouth  town  that  I  know  a  lane, 

And  a  small  house  jolly  and  free, 
That's  sheltered  well  from  the  wind  and  the  rain, 

And  as  snug  as  snug  can  be  ; 
And  it's  there  that  we'll  be  sitting  again 
When  my  Jim  comes  home  from  sea. 

"  Twas  a  fine  brave  sight  when  the  yards  were 

manned, 

Though  my  eyes  could  scarcely  see  ; 
It's  a  long,  long  sail  to  the  Rio  Grand,' 

And  a  long,  long  waiting  for  me  ; 
But  I'll  envy  not  any  one  in  the  land 
When  iny  Jiin  comes  home  from  sea. 


S&0  YOLANDE. 

"  So  here's  to  your  health,  you  high -born  glrli 

And  ladies  of  great  degree, 
And  I  hope  you'll  all  be  married  to  earls 

As  proud  as  proud  may  be ; 
But  I  wouldn't  give  fourpence  for  all  your  pearls 
When  my  Jim  comes  home  from  sea." 

Of  course  she  carefully  concealed  these  verses — especially 
from  her  husband,  who  would  have  led  her  a  sad  life  if  he 
had  found  them  and  discovered  the  authorship ;  and  they 
never  attained  to  the  dignity  of  type  in  the  Inverness  Cour- 
ier^ where  the  lines  to  Shena  Van  had  appeared  ;  but  all  the 
same,  pretty  Mrs.  Graham  regarded  them  with  a  certain 
pleasure,  arid  rather  approved  of  the  independence  of  the 
Portsmouth  young  lady,  although  she  had  a  vague  impres- 
sion that  she  might  not  be  quite  the  proper  sort  of  guest  to 
ask  to  Inverstory. 

Now  he  ranger  and  dismay  over  the  possible  breaking 
down  of  the  scheme  which  she  had  so  carefully  formed  and 
tended  were  due  to  various  causes,  and  did  not  simply  arise 
from  a  wish  that  the  Master  of  Lynn  should  marry  a  rich 
wife.  It  was  her  project,  for  one  thing,  and  she  had  a  cer- 
tain sentimental  fondness  in  regarding  it.  Had  she  not 
wrought  for  it,  too,  and  striven  for  it?  Was  it  for  nothing 
that  she  had  trudged  through  the  dust  of  the  Merhadj  bazaars, 
and  fought  with  cockroaches  in  her  cabin,  and  grasped  with 
the  Egyptian  heat  all  those  sweltering  afternoons?  She  be- 
gan to  consider  herself  illtreated,  and  did  not  know  which 
to  complain  of  the  more — her  brother's  indifference  or  her 
father's  obstinacy.  Then  she  could  get  no  sort  of  sympathy 
from  her  husband.  He  only  laughed,  and  went  away  to  look 
after  his  pheasants.  Moreover,  she  knew  very  well  that 
tliis  present  condition  of  affairs  could  not  last.  The  Master's 
iiiu-mper  would  increase  rather  than  abate.  Yolande  would 
grow  n-vustomed  to  his  neglect  of  her.  Perhaps  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  would  interfere,  and  finally  put-  an  end  to  that  pretty 
dren in  she  had  dreamed  about  as  they  went  sailing  down  the 
Mediterranean. 

Accordingly  she  determined  to  make  one  more  effort. 
If  she  should  not  be  able  to  coax  Lord  Lynn  into  a  more 
complaisant  frame  of  mind,  at  least  she  should  go  on  to  Allt- 
nain-Ba  and  make  matters  as  pleasant  as  possible  with  Mr. 
Winterbourne  before  he  left.  The  former  part  of  her  en- 
deavor, indeed,  she  speedily  found  to  be  hopeless.  She  had 
no  sooner  arrived  at  the  Towers  than  she  sought  out  her  fa 


YOLANDE.  861 

ther  and  begged  him  to  be  less  obdurate ;  but  when,  nsshe  was 
putting  forward  Corrievrcak  as  her  chief  argument,  she  was 
met  by  her  father  s  affixing  to  Corrievreak,  or  rather  prefix- 
ing to  it,  a  solitary  and  emphatic  word — a  word  that  was  en- 
tirely out  of  place,  too,  as  applied  to  a  sanctuary — she  knew  it 
was  all  over.  Lord  Lynn  sometimes,  used  violent  language, 
for  he  was  a  hot-tempered  man,  but  not  language  of  thnt 
sort;  and  when  she  heard  him  utter  that  dreadful  wrish 
about,  such  a  sacred  tiling  as  the  sanctuary  of  a  deer  forest, 
she  felt  it  was  needless  to  continue  farther. 

"  Very  well  papa,"  said  she,  "  I  have  done  my  best.  It 
is  not  my  affair.  Only  everything  might  have  been  made 
BO  pleasant  for  us  all." 

**  Yes,  and  for  the  Slagpool  Radicals,"  her  father  said, 
contemptuously.  "  I  suppose  they  would  land  at  Foyers 
with  banners,  and  have  picnics  in  the  forest." 

44  At  all  events,  you  must  remember  this,  papa,"  said  Mrs. 
Graham,  with  some  sharpness,  "  that  Archie  is  a  gentleman, 
lie  is  pledged  to  marry  Miss  Winterbourne,  and  marry  her 
he  will."  ' 

"  Let  him,  and  welcome  !  "  said  this  short,  stout,  thick 
person  with  the  bushy  eyebrows  and  angry  eyes.  a  lie  may 
marry  the  dairy-maid  if  he  likes.  I  suppose  the  young  gen- 
tleman has  a  right  to  his  own  tastes.  But  I  say  he  shall 
not  bring  his  low  acquaintances  about  this  house  while  I  am 
alive." 

Mrs.  Graham  herself  had  a  touch  of  a  family  temper,  and 
for  a  second  or  two  her  face  turned  quite  pale  with  anger, 
and  when  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  kind  of  forced  and  breath- 
less way. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  Who  are  low  acquain- 
tances? Yolande  Winterbourne  is  my  friend.  She  is  fit 
to  marry  any  one  in  the  land,  I  care  not  what  his  rank  is, 
.-Mid — and  I  will  not  have  such  things  said.  She  is  my  friend. 
Low  acquaintances!  If  it  comes  to  that,  it  was  I  who  in- 
troduced Archie  to  Mr.  Winterbourne ;  and — and  this  is 
what  I  know  about  them,  that  if  they  are  not  fit  to — to  he  re- 
ceived at  Lynn,  then  neither  am  I." 

And  with  that  she  walked  calmly  (but  still  Avitli  her  face 
rather  pale)  out  of  the  room,  and  shut  the  door  behind  her  ; 
and  then  went  away  and  sought  outher  own  dressing-room 
of  former  days,  and  locked  .herself  \\\  there  and  had  a  good 
cry.  She  did  feel  injured.  She  was  doin^  her  l/est,  :iii<l 
this  was  whut  she  i^ot  for  it.  But  she  was  a  coura^cou* 


352  YOLANDE. 

little  woman,  and  presently  she  had  dried  her  eyes  and  ar- 
ranged her  dress  for  going  out ;  then  she  rang,  and  sent  a 
message  to  the  stables  to  get  the  dog-cart  ready,  for  that 
she  wanted  to  drive  to  Allt-nam-Ba. 

By-and-by  she  was  driving  along  by  the  side  of  the  pret- 
ty loch  under  the  great  hills  ;  and  she  was  comforting  her- 
self with  more  cheerful  reflections. 

"  It  is  no  matter,"  she  was  saying  to  herself.  "  If  only 
Mr.  Winterbourrie  remains  in  good  humor,  everything  will 
go  right.  When  Archie  is  married  he  will  be  rich  enough 
to  have  a  home  where  he  pleases.  I  suppose  Jim  wouldn't 
have  them  always  with  us  ? — though  it  would  be  nice  to 
have  Yolande  in  the  house,  especially  in  the  long  whiter 
months.  But  Archie  could  build  a  house  for  himself,  and 
sell  it  when  he  no  longer  wanted  it.  The  country  about 
Loch  Eil  would  please  Yolande.  I  wonder  if  Archie  could 
get  a  piece  of  land  anywhere  near  Fassiefern  ?  That  would 
be  handy  for  having  a  yacht,  too,  and  of  course  they  will 
have  a  yacht.  Or  why  shouldn't  he  merely  rent  a  house — 
one  of  those  up  Glen  Urquhart,  if  only  the  shooting  was 
a  little  better  ?  or  over  Glen  Spean  way,  if  Lochaber  isn't 
a  little  too  wild  for  Yolande?  or  perhaps  they  might  get 
a  place  in  Glengarry,  for  Yolande  is  so  fond  of  wandering 
through  woods.  No  doubt  Archie  exaggerated  that  affair 
about  Yolande's  mother ;  in  any  case  it  could  easily  be  ar- 
ranged ;  other  families  have  done  so,  and  everything  gone 
on  as  usual.  Then  if  they  had  a  town  house  we  might  all 
go  to  the  Caledonian  Ball  together.  Archie  looks  so  well 
in  the  kilt,  and  Yolande  might  go*  as  Flora  Macdonald." 

She  drove  quickly  along  the  loch-side,  but  moderated 
her  pace  when  she  reached  the  rough  mountain-road  lead- 
ing up  the  glen,  for  she  knew  she  would  not  mend  matters 
by  letting  down  one  of  her  father's  horses.  And  as  she 
approached  Allt-nam-Ba  a  chill  struck  her  heart — those  pre- 
parations for  departure  were  so  ominous.  Duncan  was  in 
front  of  the  body,  giving  the  rifles  and  guns  their  last  rub 
with  oil  before  putting  them  into  the  case  ;  boxes  of  empty 
soda-water  bottles  had  been  hauled  out  by  the  women-folk 
for  the  men  to  screw  up  ;  a  cart  with  its  shafts  resting  on 
the  ground  stood  outside  the  coach-house  ;  and  various  fig- 
ures went  hurrying  this  way  and  that.  And  no  sooner  had 
Mrs.  Graham  driven  up  and  got  down  from  the  dog-cart 
than  her  quick  eye  espied  a  tall  black-bearded  man,  who, 
from  natural  shyness — or  perhaps  he  wauled  to  have  a  look 


YOLANDE.  858 

at  Duncan's  gun-rack — had  retreated  into  the  bothy;  and 
BO,  instead  of  going  into  the  house,  she  quickly  followed 
him  into  the  wide,  low-roofed  apartment,  which  smelled 
considerably  of  tobacco  smoke. 

41  Isn't  your  name  Angus?  "  said  she. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  he,  with  a  very  large  srnile  that 
showed  he  recognized  her. 

"  I  suppose  Sir.  Macpherson  has  sent  you  about  the  in- 
ventory?" 

44  Yes,  ma'am." 

44  Have  you  been  over  the  house  yet  ?  " 

44 No,  ma'am;  I  have  just  come  out  with  the  empty  cart 
from,  Inverfariguig." 

44  Well,  then,  Angus,  you  need  not  go  over  the  house. 
I  don't  want  the  gentlemen  bothered.  Go  back  and  tell 
Mr.  Macpherson  I  said  so." 

44  There  was  £7  of  breakages  with  the  last  tenant,  ma'- 
am," said  he,  very  respectfully. 

44  Never  mind,"  said  she  ;  and  she  took  out  her  purse 
and  got  hold  of  a  sovereign.  "  Go  back  at  once ;  and  if 
you  have  to  sleep  at  Whitebridge  that  will  pay  the  cost; 
or  you  may  get  a  lift  in  the  mail  cart.  My  brother  is  in  In- 
verness, isn't  he?" 

4'  Yes,  ma'am." 

44  Then  you  can  go  to  him,  and  tell  him  I  said  there  was 
to  be  no  going  over  the  inventory.  This  tenant  is  a  friend 
of  mine.  You  go  to  my  brother  when  you  get  to  Inverness, 
and  he  will  explain  to  Mr.  Macpherson.  Now  good-by, 
Angus ;  "  and  she  shook  hands  with  him,  as  is  the  custom 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  went. 

The  arrival  a  stranger  at  Allt-nam-Ba  was  such  an  un- 
ual  circumstance  that  when  she  went  up  to  door  of  the  lodge 
she  found  both  Mr.  Winterbourne  and  John  Shortlands 
awaiting  her,  they  having  seen  her  drive  up  the  glen ;  and 
she  explained  that  she  had  been  leaving  a  message  with 
one  of  the  men. 

44 1  heard  you  were  leaving,  Mr.  Winterbourne,"  said 
she,  with  one  of  her  most  charming  smiles,  when  they  had 
got  into  the  drawing  room,  44  and  I  could  not  let  you  go 
away  without  coming  to  say  good-by.  Both  my  husband 
and  I  expected  to  have  seen  much  more  of  you  this  au- 
tumn ;  but  you  can  see  for  yourself  what  it  is  in  the  High- 
lands—everv  household  is  so  wrapped  up  in  its  own  affairs 
that  there  is  scarcely  any  tine  for  visiting.  If  Inverstroy 


854  YOLANDE. 

had  come  to  Allt-nam-Bo,  Inverstroy  would  have  found  Allt- 
narn-Ba  away  shooting  on  the  hill,  and  vice  versa!  and  I 
suppose  that  is  why  old-fashioned  people  like  my  father 
have  almost  given  up  the  tradition  of  visiting.  When  do 
you  go?  " 

"  Well,  if  we  are  all  packed  and  ready,  I  suppose  this 
afternoon  ;  then  we  can  pass  the  night  at  Foyers,  and  go  on 
to  Inverness  in  the  morning." 

"  But  if  I  had  known  I  could  have  brought  some  of  the 
people  from  the  Towers  to  help  you.  My  father  would 
have  been  delighted." 

"  She  said  it  without  a  blush  ;  perhaps  it  was  only  a 
slip  of  the  tongue. 

"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Bell  would  suffer  any  interference  ?  " 
said  John  Shortlands,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  can  tell  you,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Graham,  that  she  rules  us  with  a  rod  of  iron — 
though  we're  not  supposed  to  know  it." 

"And  how  is  dear  Yohmde?"  said  Mrs.  Graham. 

"  She  is  very  well,"  Yolande's  father  said,  instantly 
lowering  his  eyes,  and  becoming  nervous  and  fidgety. 

"  I  heard  something  of  what  had  called  her  away  to 
the  south — at  least  I  presumed  that  was  the  reason,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Graham,  forcing  herself  to  attack  this  danger- 
ous topic  in  order  to  show  that,  in  her  estimation  at  least 
nothing  too  important  had  occurred.  "  Of  course  one  sym- 
pathizes with  her.  I  hope  you  have  had  good  news  from 
her?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  he  hastily.  "  Oh  yes.  I  had  a  letter 
last  night.  Yolande  is  very  well." 

"Archie,"  continued  Mrs.  Graham,  thinking  enough  had 
been  said  on  that  point,  "  is  at  Inverness.  I  declare  the 
way  those  lawyers  fight  over  trifles  is  perfectly  absurd. 
And  I  confess,"  she  added,  with  a  demure  smile, "  that  the 
owners  of  deer  forests  are  not  much  better.  Of  course  they 
always  tell  me  I  don't  know,  that  it  is  my  ignorance ;  but 
to  find  people  quarrelling  about  the  line  the  march  should 
take — when  an  acre  of  the  ground  wouldn't  give  grazing 
for  a  sheep — seems  stupid  enough.  Well,  now,  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne,  may  I  venture  to  ask  how  you  found  the  shoot- 
ing?" 

"  Oh,  excellent — excellent,"  said  he,  brightly,  for  he  also 
was  glad  to  get  away  from  that  other  topic.  "  We  have 
not  found  as  many  deer  coming  about  as  we  expected;  fcat 


YOLANDE.  855 

otherwise  the  place  has  turned  out  everything  that  could  be 
wished." 

"  I  :\m  glad  of  th.it,"  said  she,  "  for  I  know  Archie  had 
qualms  about  inducing  you  to  take  the  shooting.  I  remem- 
ber very  well,  on  board  ship,  he  used  to  think  it  was  a  risky 
tiling.  Supposing  the  place  had  not  turned  out  well,  then 
you  might  have  felt  that — that — " 

**  No,  no,  my  dear  Mrs.  Graham,"  said  he,  with  a  smile, 
"  caveat  emptor.  I  knew  I  was  taking  the  place  with  the 
usual  attending  risks  ;  I  should  not  have  blamed  your  bro- 
ther if  we  had  had  a  bad  year." 

She  was  just  on  the  point  of  asking  him  whether  he 
liked  Alt-nam-Ba  well  enough  to  come  back  again,  but  she 
thought  it  was  too  dangerous.  She  had  no  means  of  know- 
ing what  he  thought  of  Lord  Lynn's  marked  unneighbor- 
liness;  and  she  deemed  it  more  prudent  to  go  on  talking  of 
general  subjects,  in  her  light  and  cheerful  way,  and  always 
on  the  assumption  that  two  families  were  on  friendly  terms, 
and  that  Yolande's  future  home  would  be  in  the  Highlands. 
At  length  she  said  must  be  going. 

"  I  would  ask  you  to  stay  to  lunch,"  said  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne,  "but  I  dare  say  you  know  what  lunch  is  likely  to  be 
on  the  day  of  leaving  a  shooting-box — " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  she,  in  tones  of  vexation. 
"  Why  did  they  not  think  of  that  at  the  Towers  ?     They 
might  have    saved  you  a  great  deal  of   bother  that  way ; 
but  they  have   got  into  an  old  fashioned  groove    there." 

"At  the  same  time,  my  dear  Mrs.  Graham,"  said  Mr. 
Winterbourne,  with  great  courtesy,  "  if  you  like  to  take  the 
risk,  I  dare  say  Mrs.  Bell  can  find  you  something;  and  we 
have  not  often  the  chance  of  entertaining  any  one  at  Allt- 
nam-Ba.  Will  you  take  pity  on  us  ?  Will  you  sit  in  Yo- 
lande's place  ?  The  house  has  been  rather  empty  since  she 
left." 

"  I  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  said  pretty  Mrs.  Graham, 
taking  off  her  hat  and  gloves  and  putting  them  on  the  sofa, 
"  for  I  feel  that  I  haven't  given  you  half  the  messages  I 
wish  you  to  take  to  dear  Yolande.  And  you  must  let  me 
have  her  address,  so  that  Jim  can  send  her  a  haunch  of 
venison  at  Christmas." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  would  not  be  of  much  use,  thank  you," 
said  he  ;  "  for  I  hope  by  that  time,  if  all  goes  well,  that  Yo- 
lande will  be  away  in  the  south  of  Europe." 

"  Archie  is  going  south  also,"  said  Mrs.  Graham  pleas- 


$56  YO  LANDS. 

antly.  "  There  is  little  doing  here  in  the  winter.  After  he 
has  made  all  the  arrangements  with  papa's  agents  in  Inver- 
ness, then  he  will  be  off  to  the  south  too.  Where  is  Yo- 
lande  likely  to  be  ?  " 

"  Well  I  don't  exactly  know,"  said  Mr.  Winterbourne, 
with  a  kind  of  anxious  evasion.  "But  she  will  write  to 
you.  Oh  yes,  I  will  tell  her  to  write  to  you.  She  is — she 
is  much  occupied  at  present — and — and  perhaps  she  has  not 
much  time.  But  Yolande  does  not  forget  her  friends." 

"  She  shall  not  forget  me  for  I  won't  let  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Graham,  blithely.  "  If  she  should  try,  I  will  come  and  fer- 
ret her  out,  and  give  her  a  proper  scolding.  But  I  don't 
think  it  will  be  needed." 

The  luncheon,  frugal  as  it  was,  proved  to  be  a  very  pleas- 
ant affair,  for  the  two  men-folk  were  glad  to  have  the  table 
brightened  by  the  unusual  presence  of  a  lady  guest,  who  was, 
moreover,  very  pretty  and  talkative  and  cheerful ;  while  on 
the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Graham,  having  all  her  wits  about  her, 
very  speedily  assured  herself  that  Yolande's  father  was 
leaving  Allt-nam-Ba,  in  no  dudgeon  whatever;  and  also  that, 
although  he  seemed  to  consider  Yolande  as  at  present  set 
apart  for  some  special  duty,  and  not  to  be  interfered  with 
by  any  suggestions  of  future  meetings  or  arrangements,  he 
appeared  to  take  it  for  granted  that  ultimately  she  would 
live  in  the  Highlands.  Mrs.  Graham  convinced  herself  that 
all  was  well,  and  she  was  a  skilful  flatterer,  and  could  use 
her  eyes  ;  and  altogether  this  was  a  very  merry  and  agree- 
able luncheon  party.  Before  she  finally  rose  to  go  she  had 
got  Yolande's  address,  and  had  undertaken  to  write  to  her. 
And  then  she  pleased  Mr.  Winterbourne  very  much  by 
asking  to  see  Mrs.  Bell ;  and  she  equally  pleased  Mrs.  Bell 
by  Borne  cleverly  turned  compliments,  and  by  repeating 
what  the  gentlemen  had  said  about  their  obligations  to  her. 
In  good  truth  Mrs.  Bell  needed  some  such  comfort.  She 
was  sadly  broken  down.  When  Mrs.  Graham  asked  her 
about  Mr.  Melville,  tears  rose  unbidden  to  the  old  dame's 
eyes,  and  she  had  furtively  to  wipe  them  away  with  her 
handkerchief  while  pretending  to  look  out  of  the  window. 

"  He  has  written  two  or  three  times  to  the  young  lad 
Dalrymple,"  said  she,  with  just  one  suppressed  sob;  "  and 
all  about  they  brats  o'  bairns,  as  if  he  wasna  in  mair  con- 
sideration in  people's  minds  than  a  wheen  useless  lads  and 
lassies.  And  only  a  message  or  two  to  me,  about  this 
family  or  the  other  family — the  deil  take  them,  that  he 


YOLANDE.  357 

should  bother  his  head  about  their  crofts  and  their  cows 
and  their  seed-corn  !  And  just  as  he  might  be  having  his 
ain  back  again — to  gang  awa'  like  that,  without  a  word  o* 
an  address.  I  jalouse  it's  America — ay,  I'm  thinking  it's 
America,  for  there  they  have  the  electric  things  he  was  aye 
speaking  o' ;  and  he  was  a  curious  man,  that  wanted  to  ken 
everything.  I  wonder  what  the  Alrnichty  was  about  when 
He  put  it  into  people's  heads  to  get  fire  out  o'  running 
water !  They  might  hae  been  content  as  they  were ;  and 
Mr.  Melville  would  hae  been  better  occupit  in  planting  his 
ain  hill-sides — as  a'  the  lairds  are  doing  nowadays — than  in 
running  frae  ae  American  town  to  anither  wi'  his  boxes  o' 
steel  springs  and  things." 

"  But  he  is  sure  to  write  to  you,  Mrs.  Bell,"  said  Mrs. 
Graham. 

"  I  just  canna  bear  to  think  o't,"  said  the  older  woman, 
in  a  kind  of  despair.  "  I  hope  he  didna  leave  because  he 
thought  I  would  be  an  encumbrance  on  him.  I  hae-mair 
sense  than  that.  But  he's  a  proud  man,  though  I  shouldna 
say  it —  Ay,  and  the  poor  lad  without  a  home — and  with- 
out the  land  that  belongs  to  him — " 

The  good  old  lady  found  this  topic  too  much  for  her, 
and  she  was  retiring  with  an  old-fashioned  courtesy,  when 
Mrs.  Graham  shook  hands  with  her  in  the  most  friendly 
manner;  and  assured  her  that  if  any  tidings  of  Mr.  Melville 
came  to  Inverstroy  (as  was  almost  certain),  she  would 
write  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

LOOSENED    CHAINS. 

"  You  have  done  well — you  will  succeed."  Yolande  read 
and  again  read  that  brief  note ;  pondering  over  it  in  secret, 
and  always  with  an  increasing  joy.  He  had  seen  ;  he  had 
approved.  And  now,  when  she  was  walking  about  the 
streets  of  Worthing  with  her  mother,  she  found  a  strange 
interest  in  guessing  as  to  which  of  those  houses  he  had  lived 
in  while,  as  she  assured  herself,  he  was  keeping  that  invisible 
guard  over  her.  Was  it  this  one,  or  that ;  or  perhaps  the 


858  YOLANDE. 

hotel  at  tlie  corner?  Had  he  been  standing  at  the  window 
there,  and  regarding  her  as  she  passed  unconscious  ?  Had  he 
seen  her  drive  by  in  the  little  pony-carriage  ?  Had  he  watched 
her  go  along  the  pier,  himself  standing  somewhere  out 
of  the  way  ?  She  had  no  longer  any  doubt  that  it  was  lie  who 
had  gone  to  the  office  of  Lawrence  Lang  on  the  morning  of 
her  arrival  in  London  ;  she  was  certain  he  must  have  been 
close  by  when  she  went  to  fetch  her  mother  on  that  fateful 
evening. 

And  indeed,  as  time  went  on,  it  became  more  and  more 
certain  that  that  forgetfulness  to  which  she  had  looked  for- 
ward was  still  far  from  her ;  and  now  she  began  to  regard 
with  a  kind  of  dismay  the  prospect  of  the  Master  of  Lynn 
coming  to  claim  her.  She  knew  it  was  her  duty  to  become 
his  wife — that  had  been  arranged  and  approved  by  her  fa- 
ther ;  she  had  herself  pledged  away  her  future  ;  and  she  had 
no  right  of  appeal.  She  reminded  herself  of  these  facts  a 
hundred  times,  and  argued  with  herself;  she  strove  to 
banish  those  imaginings  about  one  who  ought  henceforth  to 
be  as  one  dead  to  her;  and  strove  also  to  prove  to  herself 
that  if  she  did  what  was  right,  unhappiness  could  not  be 
the  result ;  but  all  the  time  there  was  growing  up  in  her 
heart  a  fear — nay,  almost  a  conviction — that  this  marriage 
was  not  possible.  She  turned  away  her  eyes  and  would 
not  regard  it;  but  this  conviction  pressed  itself  in  on  her 
whether  she  would  or  no.  And  then  she  would  engage 
herself  with  a  desperate  assiduity  in  the  trivial  details  of 
their  daily  life  there,  and  try  to  gain  forgetfulness  that 
way. 

This  was  the  letter  she  wrote  to  the  Master  of  Lynn,  in 
reply  to  his.  It  cost  her  some  trouble,  and  also  here  and 
there  some  qualm  of  self-reproach  ;  for  she  could  not  but 
know  that  she  was  not  telling  the  whole  truth  : 

'•  WORTHING,  Wednesday  afternoon. 

"  DEAR  ARCHIE, — I  am  exceedingly  grieved  to  hear  of 
your  trouble  with  your  family,  and  also  to  think  that  I  am 
the  cause  of  it.  It  seems  so  great  a  pity,  and  all  the  more 
that,  in  the  present  circumstances,  it  is  so  unnecessary.  You 
will  understand  from  my  papa's  letter  that  the  duty  I  have 
undertaken  is  surely  before  any  other ;  and  that  one's  per- 
sonal wishes  must  be  put  aside,  when  it  is  a  question  of  what 
ft  daughter  owes  to  her  mother.  And  to  think  there  should 
be  trouble  and  dissension  now  over  what  must  in  any  case 


YOLANDE.  859 

be  so  remote — that  seems  a  very  painful  and  unnecessary 
thing  ;  and  surely,  dear  Archie,  you  can  can  do  something 
to  restore  yourself  to  your  ordinary  position  with  regard  to 
your  family.  Do  you  think  it  is  pleasant  to  me  to  think 
that  I  am  the  cause  of  a  quarrel?  And  to  think  also  that 
this  quarrel  might  be  continued  in  the  future  ?  But  the  fu- 
ture is  so  uncertain  now  in  these  new  circumstances  that  I 
would  pray  you  not  to  think  of  it,  but  to  leave  it  aside,  and 
become  good  friends  with  your  family.  And  how,  you 
may  ask  ?  Well,  I  would  consider  our  engagement  at  an 
end  for  the  present ;  let  it  be  as  nothing ;  you  will  go  back 
to  Lynn  ;  I  arn  here,  in  the  position  that  I  can  not  go 
from  ;  let  the  future  have  what  it  may  in  store,  it  will  be 
time  to  consider  afterwards.  Pray  believe  me,  dear  Archie, 
it  is  not  in  anger  that  I  write,  or  any  resentment ;  for  I  un- 
derstand well  that  my  papa's  politics  are  not  agreeable  to 
everyone;  and  I  have  heard  of  differences  in  families  on 
smaller  matters  than  that.  And  I  pray  you  to  believe  that 
neither  my  father  nor  myself  was  sensible  of  any  discourtesy 
— no,  surely  every  one  has  the  right  to  choose  his  friends  as 
he  pleases  ;  nor  could  one  expect  one's  neighbors  to  alter 
their  habits  of  living,  perhaps,  and  be  at  the  trouble  of  en- 
tertaining strangers.  No,  there  is  neither  resentment  nor 
anger  in  my  mind  ;  but  only  a  wish  that  you  should  be  re- 
conciled to  your  friends;  and  this  is  an  easy  way.  It  would 
leave  you  and  me  free  for  the  time  that  might  be  nccesary ; 
you  can  go  back  to  Lynn,  where  your  proper  place  is  ;  and 
I  can  give  myself  up  to  my  mother,  without  other  thoughts. 
Will  you  ask  Mrs.  Graham  if  that  is  not  the  wisest  plan  ? — 
I  am  sure  she  must  be  distressed  at  the  thought  of  your  be- 
ing estranged  from  your  relatives;  and  I  know  she  will 
think  it  a  pity  to  have  so  much  trouble  about  what  must  in 
any  case  be  so  distant.  For,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  dear 
Archie,  I  can  not  leave  to  any  one  else  what  I  have  now  un- 
dertaken ;  and  it  may  be  years  of  attention  and  service  that 
are  wanted  ;  and  why  should  you  wait  and  wait,  and  always 
with  the  constraint  of  a  family  quarrel  around  you?  For 
myself,  I  already  look  at  my  position  that  way.  I  have 
put  aside  my  engagement  ring.  I  have  given  myself  over 
to  the  one  who  has  most  claims  on  me ;  and  I  am  proud  to 
think  that  I  may  have  been  of  a  little  service  already.  Will 
you  consent,  dear  Archie  ?  Then  we  shall  both  be  free ;  and 
the  future  must  be  left  to  itself. 

"  Jt  was  so  very  kind  of  you  to  look  after  the  sending 


860  YOLANDS. 

away  of  the  dogs  and  ponies  from  AlIt-nam-Ba  I  my  papa 
has  written  to  me  from  Dalescroft  about  it ;  and  was  very 
grateful  to  you.  No,  I  will  not  tell  him  anything  of  what 
is  in  your  letter ;  for  it  is  not  necessary  it  should  be  known 
— especially  as  I  hope  you  will  at  once  take  steps  for  a  re- 
conciliation and  think  no  more  of  it.  And  it  was  very  good 
of  your  sister  to  go  out  and  pay  them  a  visit  at  Allt-nam-Ba. 
I  have  had  a  letter  from  her  also — as  kind  as  she  always  is 
— asking  me  to  go  to  Inverstroy  at  Christmas  ;  but  you  will 
understand  from  what  I  have  said  that  this  is  impossible, 
nor  can  I  make  any  engagement  with  any  one  now,  nor 
have  I  any  desire  to  do  so.  I  am  satisfied  to  be  as  I  am — 
also,  I  rejoice  to  think  that  I  have  the  opportunity ;  I  wish 
for  nothing  more  except  to  hear  that  you  have  agreed  to 
my  suggestion  and  gone  back  to  Lynn.  As  for  my  mother 
and  myself,  we  shall  perhaps  go  to  the  south  of  Franco 
when  she  is  a  little  stronger  ;  but  at  present  she  is  too  weak 
to  travel ;  and  happily  we  find  ourselves  very  well  content 
with  this  place,  now  that  we  are  familiar  with  it,  and  have 
found  out  different  ways  of  passing  the  time.  It  is  not  so 
wild  and  beautiful  as  Allt-nam-Ba,  but  it  is  a  cheerful  place 
for  an  invalid  :  we  have  a  pretty  balcony,  from  which  we 
can  look  at  the  people  on  the  promenade,  and  the  sea,  and 
the  ships ;  and  we  have  a  pony-carriage  for  the  country 
roads,  and  have  driven  almost  everywhere  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

"  So  now  I  will  say  good-by,  dear  Archie  ;  and  1  hope 
you  will  consider  my  proposal ;  and  see  that  it  is  wise. 
What  may  occur  in  the  future,  who  can  tell? — but  in  the 
meantime  let  us  do  what  is  best  for  those  around  us  ;  and 
I  think  this  is  the  right  way.  I  should  feel  far  happier  if  I 
knew  that  you  were  not  wondering  when  this  service  that 
I  owe  to  my  mother  were  to  end  ;  and  also  I  should  feel  far 
happier  to  know  that  I  was  no  longer  the  cause  of  disagree- 
ment and  unhappiness  in  your  family.  Give  my  love  to 
your  sister  when  you  see  her ;  and  if  you  hear  anything 
about  the  Gress  people,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  some  news 
about  them  also. 

"  Believe  me,  yours  affectionately, 

"YOLANDE." 

She  looked  at  this  letter  for  a  long  time  before  putting 
it  into  an  envelope  and  addressing  it;  and  when  she  posted 
it,  it  was  with  a  guilty  conscience.  So  far  as  it  went,  she 


YOLANDE*  861 

had  told  the  truth.  This  duty  she  owed  to  her  mother  waa 
paramount ;  and  she  knew  not  for  how  long  it  might  be  de- 
manded of  her.  And  no  doubt  she  would  feel  freer  and 
more  content  in  her  mind  if  her  engagement  were  broken 
off — if  she  had  no  longer  to  fear  that  he  might  be  becoming 
impatient  over  the  renewed  waiting  and  waiting.  But  that 
was  only  part  of  the  truth.  She  could  not  blind  herself  to 
the  fact  that  this  letter  was  very  little  more  than  a  skillful 
piece  of  prevarication  ;  and  this  consciousness  haunted  her, 
and  troubled  her,  and  shamed  her.  She  grew  uneasy.  Her 
mother  noticed  that  the  girl  seemed  anxious  and  distraught, 
and  questioned  her;  but  Yolande  answered  evasively.  She 
did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  burden  her  mother's  mind 
with  her  private  disquietudes. 

No,  she  had  not  been  true  to  herself;  arid  she  knew  it ; 
and  the  knowledge  brought  shame  to  her  cheeks  when  she 
was  alone.  With  a  conscience  ill  at  eas  -,  the  cheerfulness 
with  which  she  set  about  her  ordinary  task  of  keeping  her 
mother  employed  and  amused  was  just  a  little  bit  forced  ; 
and  despite  herself  she  fell  into  continual  reveries — think- 
ing of  the  arrival  of  the  letter,  of  his  opening  it,  of  his  pos- 
sible conjectures  about  it.  Then,  besides  these  smitings  of 
conscience,  there  was  another  thing:  would  he  consider 
the  reason  she  had  advanced  for  breaking  oi'f  the  engage- 
ment as  sufficient?  Would  he  not  declare  himself  willing  to 
wait?  The  tone  of  his  letter  had  been  firm  enough.  "lie 
was  unmoved  by  this  opposition  on  the  part  of  his  own 
people  ;  it  was  not  to  gain  any  release  that  he  had  written 
to  her.  And  now  might  he  not  still  adhere  to  his  resolution 
— refusing  to  make  up  the  quarrel;  resolved  to  wait  Yo- 
landc's  good  pleasure;  and  so,  in  effect,  requiring  of  her 
the  fulfilment  of  her  plighted  troth  ? 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  was  the  stronger  mo- 
tive— the  shamed  consciousness  that  she  had  not  spoken 
honestly,  or  the  ever-increasing  fear  that,  after  all,  she 
might  not  be  able  to  free  herself  from  this  impossible  bond  ; 
but  at  all  events  she  determined  to  supplement  that  letter 
with  a  franker  one.  Indeed,  she  stole  out  that  same  even- 
ing, under  some  pretence  or  other,  and  went  to  the  post- 
office  and  sent  off  this  telegram  to  him  : 

"Letter  posted  to  you  this  afternoon  :  do  not  answer  it 
until  you  get  the  following."  Then  she  went  back  to  the 
rooms  quickly,  her  heart  somewhat  lighter,  though,  indeed, 
%U  during  dinner  she  was  puzzling  to  decide  what  she 


862  YOLANDE. 

should  say,  and  how  to  make  her  confession  not  too 
Hating.  She  did  not  wish  him  to  think  too  badly  of  her. 
Was  it  not  possible  for  them  to  part  friends?  Or  would  he 
be  angry,  and  call  her  "  jilt,"  "  light  o'  love,"  and  so 
forth,  as  she  had  called  herself?  Indeed,  she  had  re- 
proached herself  enough  ;  anything  that  he  could  say  would 
be  nothing  new  to  her.  Only  she  hoped — for  she  had  had 
a  gentle  kind  of  regard  for  him,  and  he  had  been  mixed  up 
in  her  imaginings  of  the  future,  and  they  had  spent  happy 
days  and  evenings  together,  on  board  ship  or  in  the  small 
lodge  between  the  streams — that  they  might  part  friends, 
without  angry  words. 

"  Yolande  there  is  something  troubling  you,"  her 
mother  said,  as  they  sat  at  table. 

She  had  been  watching  the  girl  in  her  sad,  tender  way. 
As  soon  as  she  had  spoken  Yolande  instantly  pulled  herself 
together. 

"Why,  yes,  there  is  indeed !"  she  said.  "Shall  I  tell 
you  what  it  is  mother?  I  have  been  thinking  that  soon  we 
shall  be  as  tired  of  pheasants  as  we  were  of  grouse  and  hares. 
Papa  sends  us  far  too  many ;  or  rather  it  is  Mr.  Shortlands 
now  ;  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  them — unless 
somebody  in  the  town  would  exchange  them.  Is  it  possi- 
ble ?  Would  not  that  be  an  occupation,  now — to  sit  in  a 
poulterer's  shop  and  say,  *  I  will  give  you  three  brace  of 
pheasants  for  so  many  of  this  and  so  many  of  that?'  : 

"  You  wrote  a  long  letter  this  afternoon,"  the  mother 
said,  absently.  "  Was  it  to  Mr.  Shortlands  ?  " 

"Oh  no/'  Yolande  said,  with  a  tritie  of  color  in  her 
face.  "  It  was  to  the  Master  of  Lynn.  I  have  often  told 
you  about  him,  mother.  And  one  thing  I  quite  forgot.  I 
forgot  to  ask  him  to  inquire  of  Mrs.  Bell  where  the  ballad 
of  *  Young  Randal'  is  to  be  found — you  remember  I  told 
you  the  story  ?  No,  there  is  nothing  of  it  in  the  stupid 
book  I  got  yesterday — no,  nor  any  story  like  it,  except,  per- 
haps, one  where  a  Lord  Lovat  of  former  times  comes  home 
from  Palestine  and  asks  for  May  Maisrey. 

1  And  bonnier  than  them  a' 
May  Maisrey,  where  is  she  '/  ' 

It  is  a  pretty  name,  is  it  not  mother  ?  But  I  think  I  must 
write  to  Mrs.  Bell  to  send  me  the  words  of  'Young 
Randal,'  if  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  a  book." 


YOLANDE.  363 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  away  to  your  friends  now,  Yo- 
Jnnde,"  the  mother  said,  regarding  her  in  that  sad  and  affeo 
tionate  way. 

"  That  is  so  very  likely ! "  she  answered,  witli  much 
cheerfulness. 

"You  ought  to  go,  Yolande.  Why  should  you  remain 
here?  Why  should  you  be  shut  up  here — away  from  all 
your  friends?  You  have  done  what  you  came  for — I  feel 
that  now — you  need  not  fear  to  leave  me  alone  now — to 
leave  me  in  these  same  lodgings.  1  can  stay  here  very 
well,  and  amuse  myself  with  books  and  with  looking  at  the 
people  passing.  I  should  not  be  dull.  I  like  the  rooms. 
I  should  find  amusement  enough." 

"  And  where  am  I  to  go,  then  ?  "  the  girl  said,  calmly. 

"  To  your  friends — to  all  those  people  you  have  told  me 
about.  That  is  the  proper  kind  of  life  for  you,  at  your  age 
— not  shut  up  in  lodgings.  The  lady  in  the  Highlands,  for 
example,  who  wants  you  to  spend  Christmas  there." 

"  Well,  now,  dear  mother,"  said  Yolande,  promptly,  "I 
will  not  show  you  another  one  of  my  letters  if  you  take  the 
nonsense  in  them  as  if  it  were  serious.  Christinas,  indeed! 
Why,  do  you  know  where  we  shall  be  at  Christmas  ? 
Well,  then,  at  Monte  Carlo  ?  No,  mother,  you  need  not 
look  forward  to  the  tables ;  I  will  not  permit  any  such 
wickedness,  though  I  have  staked  more  than  once — or, 
rather,  papa  staked  for  me — five-franc  pieces,  and  always 
I  won — for  as  soon  as  I  had  won  five  francs  I  came  away 
to  make  sure.  But  we  shall  not  go  to  the  tables; 
there  is  enough  without  that.  There  are  beautiful  drives  ; 
and  you  can  walk  through  the  gardens  and  down  the  ter 
races  until  you  get  a  boat  to  go  out  on  the  blue  water. 
Then,  the  other  side  you  take  a  carriage  and  drive  up  to 
the  little  town,  and  by  the  sea  there  are  more  beautiful 
gardens.  And  at  Monte  Carlo  I  know  an  excellent  hotel, 
with  fine  views  ;  and  always  there  is  excellent  music.  And 
— and  you  think  I  am  going  to  spend  Christmas  in  a  High- 
land glen  !  Grazie  alia  bonta  sua  !  " 

"  It  is  too  much  of  a  sacrifice.  You  must  leave  me  to 
myself — I  can  do  very  well  by  myself  now,"  the  mother 
said,  looking  at  the  girl  with  wistful  eyes.  *'  I  should  be 
happy  enough  only  to  hear  of  you.  I  should  like  to  hear 
of  your  being  married,  Yolande." 

u  J  am  not  likely  to  be  married  to  any  one,"  said  she, 
with  averted  eyes  and  burning  forehead.  "  Do  not  speak 


864  YOLANDE. 

of  it,  mother.     My  place  is  by  you ;  and  here  I  remain — un- 
til you  turn  me  away." 

That  same  night  she  wrote  the  letter  which  was  to  sup- 
plement the  former  one  and  free  her  conscience : 

"  DEAR  ARCHIE, — In  the  letter  I  sent  you  this  afternoon 
I  was  not  quite  frank  with  you ;  and  I  can  not  rest  until  I 
tell  you  so.  There  are  other  reasons  besides  those  I  men- 
tioned why  I  think  our  engagement  should  be  broken  off 
now  ;  and  also,  for  I  wish  to  be  quite  honest,  and  to  throw 
myself  on  your  generosity  and  forbearance,  why  I  think 
that  we  ought  not  to  look  forward  to  the  marriage  that  was 
thought  of.  Perhaps  you  will  ask  me  what  these  reasons 
are — and  you  have  the  right ;  and  in  that  case  I  will  tell 
you.  But  perhaps  you  will  be  kind,  and  not  ask ;  and  I 
should  never  forget  your  kindness.  When  I  promised  to 
marry  you,  I  thought  that  the  friendliness  and  affection  that 
prevailed  between  us  was  enough  ;  I  did  not  imagine  any 
thing  else;  you  must  think  of  how  I  was  brought  up,  with 
scarcely  any  women  friends  except  the  ladies  at  the  chateau, 
who  were  very  severe  as  to  the  duty  of  children  to  their 
parents,  and  when  I  learned  that  my  papa  approved  my 
marrying  you,  it  was  sufficient  for  me.  But  now  I  think 
not.  I  do  not  think  I  should  bring  you  happiness.  There 
ought  to  be  no  regret  on  the  marriage-day — no  thoughts 
of  going  away  elsewhere.  You  have  the  right  to  be  angry 
with  me,  because  I  have  been  careless,  and  "allowed  myself 
to  become  affectionate  to  some  one  else  without  my  know- 
ing it ;  but  it  was  not  with  intention  ;  and  now  that  I  know, 
should  I  be  doing  right  in  allowing  our  engagement  to  con- 
tinue ?  Yes,  you  have  the  right  to  upbraid  me ;  but  you 
can  not  think  worse  of  me  than  I  think  of  myself  ;  and  per- 
haps it  is  well  that  the  mistake  was  soon  found  out,  before 
harm  was  done.  As  for  me,  my  path  is  clear.  All  that  I 
said  in  the  other  letter  as  to  the  immediate  future,  and  I 
hope  the  distant  future  also,  is  true  ;  you  have  only  to  look 
at  this  other  explanation  to  know  exactly  how  I  am  situ- 
ated. I  welcome  my  position  and  its  duties — they  drive  away 
sometimes  sad  thinking  and  regret  over  what  has  happened. 
You  were  always  very  kind  and  considerate  to  me ;  you 
deserved  that  I  kept  my  faith  to  you  more  strictly;  and  if  I 
were  to  see  your  sister,  what  should  I  say  ?  Only  that  I  am 
sorry  that  I  can  make  no  more  amends ;  and  to  beg  for 
your  forgiveness  and  for  hers.  And  perhaps  it  is  better  M 


YOLANDK.  8t)5 

it  is  for  all  of  us.  My  way  is  clear.  I  must  be  with  ray 
mother.  Perhaps,  some  day,  if  our  engagement  had  con- 
tinued, I  might  have  been  tempted  to  repine.  I  hope  not; 
but  I  have  no  longer  such  faith  in  myself.  But  now  you 
are  free  from  the  impatience  of  waiting;  and  I — I  go  my 
own  way,  and  am  all  the  more  certain  to  give  all  my  devo- 
tion where  it  is  needed.  I  would  pray  you  not  to  think 
too  harshly  of  me,  only  I  know  that  1  have  not  the  right  to 
ask ;  and  I  should  like  to  part  friends  with  you,  if  only  for 
the  sake  of  the  memories  that  one  treasures.  My  letter  is 
ill-expressed — that  I  am  sure  it  must  be  ;  but  perhaps  you 
will  guess  at  anything  I  should  have  said  and  have  not  said; 
and  believe  that  I  could  stretch  out  my  hands  to  you  to  beg 
for  your  forgiveness,  and  for  gentle  thoughts  of  me  in  the 
future,  after  some  years  have  given  us  time  to  look  baek.  I 
do  not  think  little  of  any  kindness  that  has  been  shown  to 
me;  and  I  shall  remember  your  kindness  to  me  always; 
and  also  your  sister's;  and  the  kindness  of  every  one,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  whom  I  met  in  the  Highlands.  I  have  made 
this  confession  to  you  without  consulting  any  one  ;  for  it  is 
a  matter  only  between  you  and  me ;  and  I  do  not  know  how 
you  will  receive  it ;  only  that  I  pray  you  once  more  for 
your  forgiveness,  and  not  to  think  too  harshly,  but,  if  you 
have  such  gentleness  and  commiseration,  to  let  us  remain 
friends,  and  to  think  of  each  other  in  the  future  as  not  alto- 
gether strangers.  I  know  it  is  much  that  I  ask,  and  that 
you  have  the  right  to  refuse ;  but  I  shall  look  for  your 
letter  with  the  rememberance  of  your  kindness  in  the 
past. 

YOLANDE." 

It  was  a  piteous  kind  of  letter ;  for  she  felt  very  solitary 
and  unguided  in  this  crisis ;  moreover,  it  was  rather  hard 
to  fight  through  this  thing,  and  preserve  at  the  same  time 
an  appearance  of  absolute  cheerfulness,  so  long  as  her  mo- 
ther was  in  the  room.  But  she  got  it  done  ;  and  Jane  was 
sent  out  to  the  post-office  ;  and  thereafter  Yolande — with 
something  of  trial  and  trouble  in  her  eyes,  perhaps,  but 
otherwise  with  a  brave  face — fetched  down  some  volumes 
from  the  little  book-case,  and  asked  her  mother  what  she 
wanted  to  have  read. 


YQLANDE* 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

TBE    HOUR    OF    VENGEANCE. 

TOE  Master  of  Lynn  had  spent  the  whole  of  the  morning 
in  arranging  affairs  with  his  father's  agent ;  and  when  he 
left  Mr!"  Ronald  Macpherson's  office  he  knew  that  he  had 
now  ail  the  world  to  choose  from.  He  was  anxious  to  get 
away  from  this  dawdling  life  in  Inverness  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  was  not  going  back  to  Lynn.  He  still  felt  an- 
gry and  indignant ;  he  considered  he  had  been  badly  used  ;  and 
it  is  far  from  improbable  that  if,  at  this  moment,  Yolande 
had  been  differently  situated,  and  if  Mr.  Winterbourne  had 
been  likely  to  give  his  consent,  he,  the  Master,  would  now 
have  proposed  an  immediate  marriage,  leaving  his  father  and 
aunt  to  do  or  think  as  they  pleased.  But,  in  the  present 
circumstances,  that  was  impossible  ;  and  he  did  not  know 
well  which  way  to  turn  ;  and  had  generally  got  himself  into 
an  unsettled,  impatient,  irritable  condition,  which  boded  no 
good  either  for  himself  or  for  them  who  had  thwarted  him. 

He  returned  to  the  Station  Hotel,  and  was  having  lunch 
by  himself  in  the  large  and  almost  empty  dining-room,  when 
two  letters  were  brought  him  which  had  doubtless  arrived 
by  that  morning's  mail.  As  he  was  thinking  of  many  things, 
it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  look  at  both  addresses  and  decide 
which  letter  should  have  precedence;  he  mechanically 
opened  and  read  the  first  that  came  to  hand : 

ST.  JAMES'S  CLUB,  PICCADILLY,  October  31. 

"  DEAR  LESLIE, — Are  you  game  for  a  cruise  ?  I  will  go 
where  you  like  ;  and  start  any  day  you  like.  1  have  never 
taken  the  Juliet  across  the  Atlantic — what  do  you  say  ? 
The  worst  of  it  is,  there  ain't  much  to  see  when  you  get 
there  ;  but  we  should  have  some  fun  going  over  and  coming 
back.  Drop  me  a  line.  She  is  at  Plymouth,  and  could  be 
got  ready  in  a  week. 

"  Yours  ever,  DARTOWN." 

"  Now,  to  have  a  three-hundred-ton  steam-yacht  put  at 
your  disposal  is  an  agreeable  kind  of  thing ;  but  there  were 


YOl.ANDE.  867 

oilier  circumstances  in  this  case.  Lord  Dartown  was  ft 
young  Irish  peer  who  had  inherited  an  illustrious  name, 
large  estates  (fortunately  for  him,  some  of  them  were  in 
England),  and  a  sufficiency  of  good  looks  ;  but  who,  on  tho 
other  hand,  seemed  determined  to  bid  a  speedy  farewell  to 
all  of  these  by  means  of  incessant  drinking.  His  friends 
regarded  him  with  much  interest,  for  he  was  doing  it  on  dry 
champagne  ;  and  as  that  is  a  most  umisual  circumstance — • 
champagne  being  somewhat  too  much  of  child's  play  for 
the  serious  drinker — they  looked  on  and  wondered  how  long 
it  would  last,  and  repeated  incredible  stories  as  to  the 
number  of  bottles  this  youth  could  consume  from  the  mo- 
ment of  his  awaking  in  his  berth  until  his  falling  asleep  in 
the  same.  The  Juliet  was  an  exceedingly  well-appointed 
vessel ;  the  cook  had  a  reputation  that  a  poet  might  envy  ; 
but  the  habits  of  the  owner  were  peculiar,  and  most  fre- 
quently he  had  to  make  his  cruises  alone.  But  he  had  al- 
ways had  a  great  respect  for  the  Master  of  Lynn,  who  was 
his  senior  by  a  year  or  two,  when  they  were  school-fellows 
together ;  and  sometimes  in  later  years  a  kind  of  involun- 
tary admiration  for  the  firm  nerve  and  hardened  frame  of 
his  deer-stalking  friend  would  lead  to  a  temporary  fit  of  re- 
formation, and  he  would  even  take  to  practising  with  dumb- 
bells, which  his  trembling  muscles  could  scarcely  hold  out 
at  arm's-length. 

"  Owley  must  be  off  his  head  altogether  this  time," 
the  Master  of  Lynn  coolly  said  to  himself,  as  he  regarded 
the  shaky  handwriting  of  the  letter.  "  To  think  of  facing 
the  "rolling  forties  '  at  this  time  of  year  !  We  should  die 
of  cold  besides.  Not  good  enough,  Owley  :  you  must 
throw  a  fly  over  somebody  else." 

So  he  put  that  letter  aside,  and  took  up  the  other.  It 
was  the  second  one  of  the  two  that  Yolande  had  sent  him  ; 
he  had  got  its  predecessor  on  the  previous  day.  And  now, 
as  he  read  this  final  declaration  and  confession,  it  was  with 
an  ever-increasing  surprise  ;  but  it  certainly  was  with  no 
sense  of  dismay  or  disappointment,  or  even  the  resentment 
of  wounded  vanity.  He  did  not  even,  at  this  moment  heed 
the  piteous  appeal  for  charity  and  kindliness  ;  it  was  not  of 
her  he  was  thinking,  and  scarcely  of  himself  ;  it  was  rather 
of  the  people  at  Lynn, 

"  Now  I  will  show  them  what  they  have  done  !  "  he 
was  saying  to  himself,  with  a  kind  of  triumph.  "  They 
shall  see  what  they  have  done,  and  I  hope  they  will  be  sat- 


068  YOLAA'DE. 

istied.  As  for  me,  I  am  going  my  own  way  after  this.  1 
have  had  enongh  of  it.  Polly  may  scheme  as  she  likes  • 
and  they  may  rage,  or  refuse,  or  go  to  the  deuce,  if  they  like  ; 
I  am  going  to  look  after  myself  now." 

He  picked  up  the  other  letter,  and  took  both  with  him 
into  the  writing-room  ;  he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  left 
his  lunch  but  half  finished.  And  there  he  read  Yolande'a 
appeal  to  him  with  more  care  ;  and  he  was  touched  by  the 
penitence  and  the  simplicity,  and  the  eager  wish  for  friend- 
liness in  it  ;  and  he  determined,  as  he  sat  down  at  the 
writing-table,  that,  as  far  as  he  had  command  of  the  English 
language,  she  should  have  safe  assurance  that  they  were  to 
part  on  kindly  terms.  Indeed,  as  it  turned  out,  this  was 
the  most  affectionate  letter  he  had  ever  sent  her  ;  and  it 
might  have  been  said  of  him,  with  regard  to  this  engage- 
ment, that  nothing  in  it  so  well  became  him  as  his  manner 
of  leaving  it  : 

"  MY  DEAREST  YOLANDE,"  he  wrote, — "  I  am  inexpres- 
sibly grieved  that  you  should  have  given  yourself  the  pain 
to  write  such  a  letter  ;  and  you  might  have  known  that 
whenever  you  wished  our  engagement  to  cease  I  should  con« 
sider  you  had  the  right  to  say  so,  and  so  far  from  accusing 
you  or  doing  anything  in  the  tragedy  line,  I  should  beg  to 
be  allowed  to  remain  always  your  friend.  And  it  won't 
take  any  length  of  time  for  Yne  to  be  on  quite  friendly  terms 
with  you — if  you  will  let  me  ;  for  I  am  so  now  ;  and  if  I 
saw  you  to-morrow  I  should  be  glad  of  your  companionship 
for  as  long  as  you  chose  to  give  it  me  ;  and  I  don't  at  all 
think  it  impossible  that  we  may  have  many  another  stroll 
along  the  streets  of  Inverness,  when  you  come  back  to  the 
Highlands,  as  you  are  sure  to  do.  Of  course  1  am  quite 
sensible  of  what  I  have  lost — you  can't  expect  me  to  be 
otherwise  ;  and  I  dare  say  if  all  the  circumstances  had  been 
propitious,  and  if  we  had  married,  we  should  have  got  on 
very  well  together — for  Avhen  Polly  attributes  ever  thing 
that  happens  to  my  temper,  that  is  merely  because  she  is 
in  the  wrong,  and  can't  iind  any  other  excuse  ;  whereas,  if 
you  and  I  had  got  married,  I  fancy  we  should  have  agreed 
very  well,  so  long  as  no  one  interfered.  But,  to  tell  you 
the  honest  truth,  my  dear  Yolande,  I  never  did  think  you 
were  very  anxious  about  it  ;  you  seemed  to  regard  our 
engagement  as  a  very  light  matter — or  as  something  that 
would  please  everybody  all  round  ;  and  though  I  trusted 


Y-OLAN.DE.  369 

'th.-U  the  future  would  right  all  that. — I  moan  that  we  should 
become  more  intimate:  and  affectionate — still,  there  would 
have  been  a  risk  ;  and  it  is  only  common-sense  to  regard 
these  things  now  as  some  consolation,  and  as  some  reason 
why,  if  you  say,  "Let  us  break  off  this  engagement,"  I 
should  say,  "  Very  well  ;  but  let  us  continue  our  friend- 
ship." 

"  But  there  is  a  tremendous  favor  I  would  bog  and  en- 
treat of  you,  dearest  Yoiande ;  and  you  always  had  the 
most  generous  disposition — I  never  knew  you  to  refuse  any- 
body anything  (I  do  believe  that  was  why  you  got  engaged 
to  me — because  you  thought  it  would  please  the  Grahams 
and  all  the  rest  of  us).  I  do  hope  that  you  will  consent  to 
keep  the  people  at  Lynn  in  ignorance — they  could  only 
know  through  Polly,  and  you  could  keep  it  back  from  her — 
as  to  who  it  was,  or  why  it  was,  that  our  engagement  was 
broken  off.  This  is  not  from  vanity  ;  I  think  you  will  say  I 
haven't  shown  much  of  that  sort  of  distemper.  It  is  merely 
that  I  may  have  the  whip-hand  of  the  Lynn  people.  They 
have  used  me  badly  ;  and  I  mean  to  take  care  that  they 
don't  serve  me  so  again  ;  and  if  they  imagine  that  our  en- 
gagement had  been  broken  off  solely,  or  even  partly,  through 
their  opposition,  that  will  be  a  weapon  forme  in  the  future. 
And  then  the  grounds  of  their  opposition — that  they  or  their 
friends  might  have  to  associate  with  one  professing  such 
opinions  as  those  your  father  owns  !  You  may  rest  assured, 
dearest  Yoiande,  that  I  did  not  put  you  forward  and  make 
any  appeal  ;  and  equally  I  knew  you  would  resent  my 
making  any  apology  for  your  father,  or  allowing  that  any 
consideration  on  their  part  was  demanded.  It's  no  use  rea- 
soning with  raving  maniacs  ;  I  retired.  But  I  mention  this 
once  more  as  an  additional  reason  why,  if  our  engagement 
is  to  be  broken  off,  we  should  make  up  our  minds  to  look  on 
the  best  side  of  affairs,  and  to  part  on  the  best  of  terms  ;  for 
I  must  confess  more  frankly  to  you  now  that  there  would 
have  been  some  annoyance,  and  you  would  naturally  have 
been  angry  on  account  of  your  father,  and  I  should  have 
taken  your  side,  and  there  would  simply  have  been  a  series 
of  elegant  family  squabbles, 

"  There  are  one  or  two  other  points  in  your  letter  that 
I  don't  touch  on  ;  except  to  say  that  I  hope  you  will  write 
to  me  again — and  soon  ;  and  that  you  will  write  in  a  very 
different  ton<\  I  hope  you  will  see  that  many  things  justi- 
fy you  in  so  doing  ;  and  I  hope  I  have  made  this  letter  as 


870  YOLANDE. 

plain  as  can  be.  I  have  kept  back  nothing ;  so  you  needn't 
be  reading  between  the  lines.  If  you  have  no  time  to  write 
a  letter,  send  me  a  few  words  to  show  that  you  are  in  a 
more  cheerful  mood.  If  you  don't  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I 
broke  through  all  social  observances,  and  presented  myself 
at  your  door —  to  convince  you  that  you  have  done  quite 
right,  and  that  everything  is  well,  and  that  you  have  given 
me  a  capital  means  of  having  it  out  with  the  Lynn  people 
when  the  proper  times  comes.  So  please  let  me  have  a  few 
lines ;  and  in  the  meantime  I  hope  I  may  be  allowed  to 
sign  myself. 

"  Yours,  most  affectionately,  A.  LESLIE. 

"  P.S. — Do  you  T'emember  my  telling  you  of  the  small 
youth  who  was  my  fag — the  cheeky  young  party  who  was 
always  smuggling  champagne  and  pastry  ?  I  may  have 
told  you  that  he  is  now  the  owner  of  a  three-hundred-ton 
yacht?  Well,  he  wants  me  to  go  a  cruise  with  him.  I  had 
not  intended  doing  so  ;  but  it  occurs  to  me  that  I  might  do 
worse — as  all  my  affairs  are  settled  up  here ;  and  so,  if  you 
can  write  to  me  within  the  next  few  days,  will  you  please 
address  me  at  the Hotel,  Jermyn  Street?" 

Then  he  wrote  : — 

INVERNESS,  October  31. 

"  DEAR  OWLEY, — It  isn't  a  compagnon  de  voyage  you 
want ;  it's  a  straight-waistcoat.  You  would  knock  the 
Juliet  all  to  bits  if  you  took  her  across  now ;  and  a  fine 
thing  to  choose  winter  for  a  visit  to  New  York,  where  the 
weather  is  cold  enough  to  freeze  the  ears  off  a  brass 
monkey.  This  letter  will  reach  London  same  time  as  my- 

flelf;  so  you  can  look  me  up  at Hotel,  Jermyn  Street; 

and  I'll  talk  to  you  like  a  father  about  it.  My  notion  is  you 
should  send  the  Juliet  to  Gib.,  and  we  could  make  our  way 
down  through  Spain  ;  or,  if  that  is  too  tedious  for  your 
lordship,  send  her  to  Marseilles,  and  then  we  could  fill  up 
the  intervening  time  in  Paris.  I  have  never  been  to  Venice 
in  a  yacht ;  and  don't  remember  whether  you  can  get  near 
enough  to  Danieli's  to  make  it  handy ;  but  I  suppose,  even 
if  you  have  to  lie  down  by  the  Giudecca,  there  would  be 
no  difficulty  about  getting  people  to  a  dance  on  board  ? 
I'll  see  you  through  it. 

Yours,  A.  LESLIE. 


YOLANDE.  871 

And  then  (for  now  the  hour  of  vengeance  had  struck) 
he  wrote  as  follows  to  his  sister : — 

STATION  HOTEL,  October  31. 

"  DEAR  POLLY, — I  have  to  inform  you,  and  I  hope  you 
will  convey  the  information  to  his  papaship  and  to  Aunty 
Tab,  that  my  engagement  to  Yolande  Winterbourne  is 
finally,  definitely,  and  irrevocably  broken  off.  I  hope  they 
will  be  satisfied.  I  shall  be  more  careful  another  time  to 
keep  the  affair  in  my  own  hands. 

'*  I  am  off  for  a  cruise  with  Dartown,  in  the  Juliet. 
Guess  there'll  be  about  as  much  fluid  inside  as  outside  that 
noble  craft. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother,  AKCHIE. 

And  then,  having  folded  up  and  addressed  his  letters, 
he  arose  and  went  outside  and  lit  a  cigar.  He  thought  he 
would  have  a  stroll  away  through  the  town  and  out  by  the 
harbor,  just  to  think  over  this  that  had  occurred,  and 
what  was  likely  to  occur  in  the  future.  It  happened  to  be 
a  very  bright  and  cheerful  afternoon ;  and  he  walked  quickly, 
with  a  sort  of  glad  consciousness  that  he  was  now  master  of 
his  own  destiny,  and  meant  to  remain  so;  and  when  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  ruffled  and  windy  blue  sea,  that  had 
suggestions  of  voyaging  and  the  seeing  of  strange  places  that 
were  pleasant  enough.  Then  his  cigar  drew  well ;  and  that, 
although  it  may  be  unconsciously,  tells  on  a  man's  mood. 
He  began  to  be  rather  grateful  to  Yolande.  He  hoped  she 
would  quite  understand  his  letter ;  and  answer  it  in  the  old 
familiar,  affectionate  way,  just  as  if  nothing  had  occurred. 
It  distressed  him  to  think  she  should  be  in  such  grief — in 
such  penitence.  But  he  knew  he  should  get  some  cheerful 
lines  from  her ;  and  that,  and  all,  was  well. 

By-and-by,  however,  a  very  uncomfortable  suspicion  got 
hold  of  him.  He  had  had  no  very  large  experience  of  women 
and  their  ways ;  and  he  began  to  ask  himself  whether  the 
ready  acquiescence  he  had  yielded  to  Yolande's  prayer 
would  please  her  overmuch.  It  certainly  was  not  flattering 
to  her  vanity.  For  one  thing,  he  could  not  wholly  explain 
his  position  to  her.  He  could  not  tell  her  that  he  had  vir- 
tually said  to  his  father,  "  Here  is  a  way  of  getting  back 
Corrievreak ;  and  getting  the  whole  estate  into  proper 
condition.  You  refuse?  Very  well;  you  mayn't  get 
another  chance,  remember."  He  could  not  fully  explain  te 


372  YOLANDE. 

her  why  her  proposal,  instead  of  bringing  him  disappoint* 
ment,  was  rather  welcome,  as  offering  him  a  means  of  ven- 
geance for  the  annoyance  he  had  been  subjected  to.  She 
knew  nothing  of  Shena  Van.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  pro- 
posal to  complete  the  Lynn  deer  forest.  So  he  began  to 
think  that  his  letter,  breaking  off  the  engagement  so  very 
willingly,  might  not  wholly  please  her;  and  as  he  was  well 
disposed  toward  Yolande  at  that  moment,  and  honestly  de- 
siring that  they  should  part  the  best  of  friends,  he  slowly 
walked  back  to  the  hotel,  composing  a  few  more  sentences 
by  the  way,  so  that  her  womanly  pride  should  not  be  wound- 
ed. 

But  it  was  a  difficult  matter.  He  went  upstairs  to  his 
room,  and  packed  his  things  for  the  journey  to  London,  while 
thinking  over  what  he  would  say  to  her.  And  it  was  very 
near  dinner-time  before  he  had  finished  this  addendum  to 
his  previous  letter  : 

"  MY  DEAREST  YOLANDE,"  he  wrote, — "  I  want  to  say 
something  more  to  you  ;  if  you  get  the  two  letters  together, 
read  this  one  second.  Perhaps  you  may  think,  from  what 
I  said  in  the  other,  that  I  did  not  sufficiently  value  the  pros- 
pect that  wras  before  rne  at  one  time,  or  else  I  should  say 
something  more  about  losing  it.  I  am  afraid  you  may  think 
1  have  given  you  up  too  easily  and  lightly  ;  but  you  would 
make  a  great  mistake  if  you  think  I  don't  know  what  I  have 
lost.  Only  I  did  not  want  to  make  it  too  grave  a  matter  ; 
your  letter  was  very  serious,  and  I  want  you  to  think,  that 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  continue  on  quite 
friendly  and  intimate  terms.  Of  course  I  know  what  I  have 
lost  ;  I  wasn't  so  long  in  your  society — on  board  ship, 
and  in  the  dahabeeyah,  too,  and  at  Allt-nam-Ba — without 
seeing  how  generous  you  were,  and  sincere  and  anxious  to 
make  every  one  around  you  happy;  and  if  it  comes  to 
that,  and  if  you  will  let  me  say  it,  a  man  naturally  looks 
forward  with  some  pride  to  having  always  him  a  wife 
who  can  hold  her  own  with  everybody  in  regard  to  per- 
sonal appearance,  and  grace  and  finish  of  manner,  and  ac- 
complishments. Of  course  I  know  what  I  have  lost.  I 
am  not  blind.  I  always  looked  forward  to  seeing  you  and 
Polly  together  at  the  ball  at  the  Northern  Meeting.  But 
when  you  say  it  is  impossible,  and  seem  put  out  about  it, 
naturally  I  tried  to  find  out  reasons  for  looking  at  the  best 
side  of  the  matter.  It  i-s  the  wisest  way.  When  you  miss 
a  bird  it  is  of  110  use  saying,  *  Confound  it,  I  have  missed  ; 


YO LANDS.  873 

it  is  much  better  to  say,  'Thank  goodness  I  didn't  go  near 
it  ;  it  won't  go  away  wounded.'  And,  quite  apart  from 
anything  you  said  in  your  letter  of  to-day,  there  was  enough 
in  your  letter  of  yesterday  to  warrant  us  both  in  consenting 
to  break  off  the  engagement,  Circumstances  vrei  f,  against 
it  on  both  sides.  Of  course  I  would  have  gone  on — as  I 
wrote  to  you.  A  man  can't  be  such  a  cur  as  to  break  his 
word  to  his  promised  wife  simply  because  his  relatives  are 
ill-tempered — at  least,  if,  I  came  across  such  a  gentleman  he 
wouldn't  very  long  be  any  acquaintance  of  mine.  But  there 
would  have  been  trouble  and  family  squabbles,  as  I  say,  if 
not  a  complete  family  separation — which  could  not  be 
pleasant  to  a  young  wife  ;  and  then,  on  your  side,  there  is 
this  duty  to  your  mother,  which  was  not  contemplated 
when  we  were  engaged  ;  and  so,  when  we  consider  every- 
thing, perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is.  I  dare  say,  if  we  had 
married,  we  should  have  been  as  contented  as  most  people; 
and  I  should  have  been  veiy  proud  of  you  as  my  wife,  natu- 
rally ;  but  it  is  no  use  speculating  on  what  might  have  been. 
It  is  very  fortunate,  when  an  engagement  is  broken  off,  if 
not  a  particle  of  blame  attaches  to  either  side  :  and  in  that 
way  we  should  consider  ourselves  lucky,  as  giving  no  handle 
for  any  ill-natured  gossip. 

"  Of  course  Polly  will  be  cut  up  about  it.  She  always 
had  an  extraordinary  affection  for  you  ;  and  looked  forward 
to  your  being  her  sister.  Graham  will  be  disappointed  too  ; 
yon  were  always  very  highly  valued  in  that  quarter.  But 
if  you  and  I  are  of  one  mind  that  the  decision  we  have 
come  to  is  a  wise  one,  it  is  our  business,  and  no  one  else's." 

He  stopped  and  read  over  again  those  last  sentences. 

"  I  consider,  now,"  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "  that 
that  is  a  friendly  touch — No  blame  attaching  to  either  side: 
that  will  please  her;  she  always  was  very  sensitive,  and 
pleased  to  be  thought  well  of." 

"  And  even,"  he  continued,  "  if  I  should  get  reconciled 
to  my  people  (about  which  I  am  in  no  hurry),  Lynn  will 
Bcem  a  lonely  place  after  this  autumn  ;  and  I  suppose  I  shall 
conceive  a  profound  detestation  for  next  year's  tenant  of 
Allt-nam-Ba.  Probably  two  or  three  bachelor  fellows  will 
have  the  Lodge  ;  and  it  will  be  pipes  and  brandy-and-soda 
and  limited  loo  in  the  evening ;  they  won't  know  that  there 
was  once  a  fairy  living  in  that  glen.  But  I  don't  despair 
of  seeing  you  again  in  the  Highlands,  and  your  father  too ; 
and,  as  they  say  the  subject  of  deer  forests  is  to  be  brought 


874  YOLANDK. 

before  the  House,  he  will  now  be  in  a  position  to  talk  a 
little  common-sense  to  them  about  that  subject.  Did  you 
see  that  the  chief  agitator  on  this  matter  has  just  been 
caught  speaking  about  the  grouse  and  red-deer  of  lona  ? 
Now  I  will  undertake  to  eat  all  the  red-deer  and  all  the 
grouse  he  can  find  in  lona  at  one  meal ;  and  I'll  give  him 
three  months  for  the  search." 

He  thought  this  was  very  cleverly  introduced.  It  was 
to  give  her  the  impression  that  they  could  now  write  to  each 
other  indifferently  on  the  subjects  of  the  day — in  short, 
that  they  were  on  terms  of  ordinary  and  pleasant  friend- 
ship. 

"  But  I  dare  say  you  will  consider  me  prejudiced — for 
I  have  been  brought  up  from  my  infancy,  almost,  with  a 
rifle  in  my  hand  ;  and  so  I  will  end  this  scrawi,  again  ask- 
ing from  you  a  few  lines  just  to  show  that  we  are  friends 
as  before,  and  as  I  hope  we  shall  ever  remain. 
"  Yours,  most  affectionately, 

ARCHIE  LESLIE." 

It  was  a  clever  letter,  he  considered.  The  little  touches 
of  flattery ;  the  business-like  references  to  the  topics  of  the 
day  ;  the  frank  appeals  to  her  old  friendship — these  would 
not  be  in  vain.  And  so  he  went  in  to  his  dinner  with  a 
light  heart,  and  the  same  night  went  comfortably  to  sleep 
in  a  saloon-carriage  bound  for  London. 


YOLANDE.  375 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A    PERILOUS    SITUATION. 

THE  Master  of  Lynn,  however,  was  not  destined  to  get  to 
London  without  an  adventure — an  adventure,  moreover,  that 
was  very  near  ending  seriously.  Most  people  who  have  trav- 
elled in  the  north  will  remember  that  the  night  train  from  Inver- 
ness stops  for  a  considerable  time,  in  the  morning,  at  Perth, 
before  setting  out  again  for  the  south ;  and  this  break  in  the 
journey  is  welcome  enough  to  passengers  who  wish  to  have  the 
stains  of  travel  washed  from  their  hands  and  faces,  to  get  their 
breakfast  in  peace  and  comfort,  and  have  their  choice  of  the 
morning  newspapers.  The  Master  of  Lynn  had  accomplished 
these  various  duties ;  and  now  he  was  idly  walking  up  and  down 
the  stone  platforms  of  the  wide-resounding  station,  smoking  a 
cigarette.  He  was  in  a  contented  frame  of  mind.  There  had 
been  too  much  trouble  of  late  up  there  in  the  north ;  and  he 
hated  trouble ;  and  he  thought  he  would  find  the  society  of 
"  Owley"  very  tolerable,  for  "Owley"  would  leave  him  alone. 
He  finished  his  cigarette ;  had  another  look  at  the  book-stall; 
purchased  a  two-shilling  novel  that  promised  something  fine, 
for  there  was  a  picture  outside  of  a  horse  coming  to  awful 
grief  at  a  steeplechase,  and  its  rider  going  through  the  air  like 
a  cannon  ball ;  and  then  he  strolled  back  to  the  compartment 
he  had  left,  vacantly  whistling  the  while  "The  Hills  of  Lynn." 

Suddenly  he  was  startled  to  find  a  well-known  face  regarding 
him.  It  was  Shena  Van ;  and  she  was  seated  in  a  corner  of  a 
second-class  carriage.  The  moment  she  saw  that  he  had  noticed 
her  she  averted  her  eyes,  and  pretended  not  to  have  seen  him  ; 
but  he  instantly  went  to  the  door  of  the  carriage. 

"It  isn't  possible  you  are  going  to  London,  Miss  Stewart?" 
said  he,  in  great  surprise. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Shena  Van.     "  I  am  not  going  so  far  as  that." 

"  How  far,  then  ?"  he  asked — for  he  saw  that  she  was  embar- 
rassed, and  only  wishing  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  certainly  that  she 
would  afford  no  information  that  wasn't  asked  for. 


376  YOLANDE. 

"  I  am  going  to  Carlisle,"  said  she,  not  looking  at  him. 

"  And  alone  ?" 

"  Oh  yes.  But  my  brother's  friends  will  be  waiting  for  me  at 
the  station." 

"  Oh,  you  must  let  me  accompany  you,  though,"  said  he, 
quickly.  "  You  won't  mind  ?" 

He  did  not  give  her  the  chance  of  refusing ;  for  he  had  little 
enough  time  in  which  to  fetch  his  things  along  from  the  other 
carriage.  Then  he  had  to  call  the  newsboy,  and  present  to  Miss 
Stewart  such  an  assortment  of  illustrated  papers,  comic  journals, 
and  magazines  as  might  have  served  for  a  voyage  to  Australia. 
And  then  the  door  was  shut,  the  whistle  shrieked,  and  the  long, 
heavy  train  moved  slowly  out  of  the  station. 

"Well,  now,"  said  he,  "this  is  lucky  !  Who  could  have  ex- 
pected it  ?  I  did  not  see  you  at  the  station  last  night." 

She  had  seen  him,  however,  though  she  did  not  say  so. 

"I  did  not  even  know  you  were  in  Inverness;  I  thought  you 
were  at  Aberdeen." 

"  I  have  been  in  Aberdeen,"  said  she.  "  T  only  went  back  a 
day  or  two  ago  to  get  ready  for  going  south." 

"  I  suppose  I  mustn't  ask  you  what  is  taking  you  to  Carlisle  ? 
— and  yet  we  used  to  be  old  friends,  you  know." 

Now  Miss  Stewart  was  a  little  bit  annoyed  at  his  thrusting 
himself  on  her  society,  and  she  was  very  near  answering  saucily 
that  it  was  the  train  that  was  taking  her  south ;  but  a  little 
touch  of  feminine  vanity  saved  him  from  that  reproof.  Shena 
Van  was  rather  glad  to  have  the  chance  of  telling  him  why  she 
was  going  south. 

"  It  is  no  great  secret,"  said  she.  "  I  am  going  to  stay  with 
the  family  of  the  young  lady  whom  my  brother  will  marry  be- 
fore long.  It  appears  that  the  professorship  will  be  worth  a 
good  deal  more  than  we  expected — oh  yes,  indeed,  a  good  deal 
more — and  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not  marry." 

"  Well,  that  is  good  news,"  said  the  Master,  cheerfully.  "And 
what  sort  of  girl  is  she  ?  Nice  ?" 

"  She  is  a  very  well-accomplished  young  lady,"  said  Shena 
Van,  with  some  dignity.  "She  was  two  years  in  Gerniany  at 
school  and  two  years  in  France,  and  she  is  very  well  fitted  to  be 
a  professor's  wife,  and  for  the  society  that  comes  to  my  broth- 
er's house." 

"  I  hope  she's  good-looking?" 

"As  to  that,"  said  Miss  Stewart,  "I  should  say  she  was  very 
pretty  indeed;  but  that  is  of  no  consequence  nowadays." 

"  Why,  what  else  is!"  he  exclaimed,  boldly. 


YOLAND&  377 

But  this  was  clearly  dangerous  ground ;  and  Miss  Stewart 

sought  refuge  in  the  pag<-s  of  /V//r/,. 

lie  had  time  to  regard  her.  lie  had  never  seen  her  look  s;> 
well.  She  had  mad-'  ample  use  of  the  clear  water  stippli 
Perth  station,  and  her  i'aee  was  MS  fresh  as  the  morning,  while 
her  pretty,  soft  light  brown  hair  was  carefully  brushed  and 
tended.  As  for  her  eyes — those  strangely  dark  blue  eyes  that 
he  could  remember  in  former  years  brimming  over  with  girlish 
merriment  or  grown  pensive  with  imaginative  dreams — he  could 
not  get  a  fair  glimpse  of  them  at  all,  for  when  she  spoke  she 
kept  them  averted  or  turned  down;  and  at  present  she  devoted 
them  to  the  study  of  Punch.  He  began  to  regret  those  exten- 
sive purchases  at  the  station.  He  made  sure  she  was  at  this 
moment  poring  over  Mr.  Du  Manner's  drawings — for  it  is  to 
them  that  women-folk  instinctively  turn  first ;  and  he  grew  to 
be  jealous  of  Mr.  Du  Manner,  and  to  wish,  indeed,  that  Mr.  Du 
Maurier  had  never  been  born — a  wish,  one  may  be  certain,  then 
formulated  for  the  first  and  only  time  by  any  inhabitant  of  these 
three  countries.  Moreover,  when  she  had  finished  with  Punch, 
she  took  up  this  magazine  and  that  magazine,  and  this  journal 
and  that  journal,  the  while  answering  his  repeated  attempts  at 
conversation  in  a  very  distant  and  reserved  way,  and  clearly  in- 
timating that  she  wished  to  be  allowed  to  prosecute  her  studies. 
He  hated  the  sight  of  those  pages.  He  was  ready  to  devote  the 
whole  periodical  literature  of  his  country  to  the  infernal  gods. 
AVhy,  look  now  on  this  beautiful,  shining  morning,  how  she 
ouo-ht  to  be  admiring  those  far-stretching  Ochilsand  the  distant 
Braes  of  Donne !  Here  were  the  wooded  banks  of  Allan  Water ; 
had  these  no  romantic  associations  for  her,  no  memories  of 
broken-hearted  lovers  and  sad  stories,  and  the  like  ?  Had  she 
no  eye  for  the  wide  open  strath  they  were  now  entering,  with 
the  silver  winding  Links  of  Forth  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
a  pale  blue  smoke  rising  afar  over  the  high  walls  and  ramparts 
of  Stirling  town?  He  verily  believed  that,  just  to  keep  away 
from  him,  and  fix  her  attention  on  something,  she  was  capable 
of  reading  Parliamentary  Debates — the  last  resort  of  the  vacant 
mind. 

But  once  they  were  away  from  Stirling  again  he  determined 
at  all  hazards  to  startle  her  out  of  this  distressing  seclusion. 

"  Shena,"  said  he,  "  do  I  look  ill?" 

She  glanced  up,  frightened. 

"  No." 

"  I  ought  to  look  ill — I  ought  to  look  unhappy  and  miserable." 
said  he,  cheerfully.     "  Don't  you  know  that  I  have  been  jilted  2" 


378  YOLANDE. 

Well,  she  did  not  quite  know  what  to  say  to  that.  He  looked 
as  if  he  was  joking ;  and  yet  it  was  not  a  thing  he  was  likely  to 
mention  in  joke — and  to  her. 

"  It  is  quite  true,  I  assure  you,"  said  he,  seeing  that  she  did 
not  make  answer.  "  You  said  you  had  heard  I  was  going  to  be 
married.  Well,  it's  all  broken  off." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Shena  Van,  as  in  duty  bound ;  but 
she  was  clearly  not  very  sure  as  to  how  to  take  the  news. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  waste  any  pity  on  me,"  said  he.  "  I  don't 
feel  very  miserable.  I  feel  rather  the  other  way.  *  Ah,  freedom 
is  a  noble  thing ' — you  remember  how  Barbour  used  to  puzzle 
you,  Shena?  Yes,  I  am  free  now  to  follow. out  my  own  wishes; 
and  that's  what  I  mean  to  do." 

"  You  are  going  to  live  in  London,  perhaps  ?"  said  Miss  Stew- 
art, regarding  him,  but  not  betraying  any  keen  personal  interest. 

"  Why,  this  is  the  point  of  it,"  said  he,  with  greater  anima- 
tion, for  at  last  she  had  deigned  to  lay  down  the  newspaper, 
"that  I  don't  in  the  least  know  where  I  am  going,  and  don't 
much  care.  I  have  determined  to  be  my  own  master,  since  my 
folk  at  home  appeared  disinclined  to  accept  the  programme  I 
had  sketched  out ;  absolutely  my  own  master.  And  now  if 
you,  Shena,  would  tell  me  something  very  fine  and  pleasant  for 
me  to  do,  that  would  be  a  kindness." 

"  In  the  mean  time,"  said  she,  with  a  slight  smile,  "  I  wish 
you  would  call  me  by  my  right  name." 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  forget  the  days  when  you  were  always 
*  Shena'  ?"  said  he,  with  a  sort  of  appealing  glance  that  her  eyes 
were  careful  to  avoid.  "  Don't  you  remember  when  I  brought 
you  the  white  kitten  from  Inverness,  and  how  it  was  always 
pulling  its  collar  of  daisies  to  pieces  ?  Don't  you  remember  my 
getting  you  the  falcon's  wings  ?  Why,  I  had  to  lie  all  niglifc 
among  the  rocks  on  Carn-nan-Gael  to  get  at  that  falcon.  And 
you  were  always  'Shena'  then."  f 

"  Because  I  was  a  child,"  said  Miss  Stewart,  with  a  slight  flush 
on  the  pretty,  fresh-colored  face.  "  When  we  grow  up  we  put 
aside  childish  things." 

"  But  we  can't  always  forget,"  said  he. 

"  Indeed,  it  seems  easy  enough  to  many,"  she  answered,  but 
with  no  apparent  sarcasm  or  intention.  "  And  you  have  not 
fixed  when  you  are  going,  Mr.  Leslie  ?"  she  added,  with  a  cer- 
tain formality. 

"  At  the  present  moment,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  half  made  an  engagement  to  go  away  on  a  yachting  crui.«c 
with  *  young  fellow  I  know.  But  he  is  rathor  an  ass.  I  am 


YOLANDE.  37Q 

not  looking  forward  to  it  with  any  great  pleasure.  Ah !  1  could 
imagine  another  kind  of  trip." 

She  did  not  ask  him  what  it  was.  She  seemed  more  inclined 
to  turn  over  the  title-pages  of  the  magazines. 

"  I  can  imagine  two  young  people  who  are  fond  of  each  other 
being  able  to  go  away  by  themselves  on  a  ramble  through  Italy 
— perhaps  two  young  people  who  had  been  separated,  and  meet- 
ing after  a  time,  and  inclined  to  take  their  lives  into  their  own 
bands,  and  do  with  them  what  seemed  best — leaving  friends 
and  other  considerations  aside  altogether.  And  they  might 
have  old  times  to  talk  about  as  they  sat  at  dinner — by  them- 
selves— in  a  room  at  this  or  that  hotel — perhaps  overlooking  the 
Rhine,  it  may  be,  if  they  were  still  in  Germany;  or  perhaps 
overlooking  the  Arno,  if  they  were  in  Florence.  Fancy  having 
only  the  one  companion  with  you,  to  go  through  the  galleries, 
and  see  all  the  pictures;  and  to  go  to  the  opera  with  you  in  the 
evening — just  the  one  and  only  companion  you  would  care  to 
have  with  you.  Wouldn't  that  be  a  trip?" 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  Miss  Stewart,  coldly.  "  But  the  two 
people  would  have  to  be  pretty  much  of  one  mind." 

"  I  am  supposing  they  are  fond  of  each  other,"  said  he,  look- 
ing at  her;  but  she  would  not  meet  his  glance. 

"  I  suppose  it  sometimes  happens,"  said  she,  taking  up  one 
of  the  magazines,  so  that  he  was  forced  to  seek  refuge  in  a 
comic  journal,  greatly  against  his  will. 

By-and-by  they  were  hurling  onward  through  the  solitudes 
•where  the  youthful  Clyde  draws  its  waters  from  the  burns  that 
trickle  and  tumble  down  the  slopes  of  "Tintock  Tap."  He 
thought  it  was  not  kind  of  Shena  Van  to  hide  herself  away  like 
that.  Her  imagination  would  not  warm  to  any  picture  he  could 
draw — though  that  of  their  being  together  in  a  Florentine  gallery 
seemed  to  him  rather  captivating.  Perhaps  she  was  offended 
at  his  having  neglected  her  for  such  a  long  time?  But  she  was 
a  sensible  young  woman;  she  must  have  understood  the  reasons. 
And  now  had  he  not  intimated  to  her  that  he  was  no  longer 
inclined  to  submit  to  the  influence  of  his  friends?  But  she  did 
not  betray  any  interest  or  curiosity. 

"  I  wonder  whether  we  stop  at  Beattock  Junction?"  said  he. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  civilly. 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,  Shena,"  said  he,  with  a  peculiar 
sort  of  smile,  "  that  if  any  one  who  knew  both  of  us  happened 
to  be  at  one  of  those  stations,  they  might  make  a  curious  sur- 
mise about  us  ?" 

«'  I  do  not  understand  you,"  Miss  Stewart  observed. 


380  YOLANDE. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Allison's  Bank  Tollhouse  ?"  he  asked. 

"No." 

"That  was  where  they  made  the  Gretna  Green  marriages — ifc 
is  just  on  this  side  the  Border.  I  think  it  is  rather  a  pity  the 
Gretna  Green  marriages  were  done  away  with  ;  it  was  an  ef- 
fectual way  of  telling  your  friends  to  mind  their  own  business. 
.There  was  no  trouble  about  it.  But  it  is  just  about  as  easy  now, 
|if  you  don't  mind  paying  for  a  special  license;  and  I  do  believe 
'it  is  the  best  way.  Your  friends  can  get  reconciled  to  it  after- 
ward if  they  like;  if  they  don't  like,  they  can  do  the  other 
thino-.  That  was  what  I  was  thinking,  Shcna — if  some  of  our 
friends  were  to  see  us  in  this  carriage,  it  wouldn't  surprise  me 
if  they  imagined  we  were  on  a,  venture  of  that  kind." 

Shena  Van  blushed  deeply,  and  was  ashamed  of  her  embar- 
rassment; and  said,  with  some  touch  of  anger, 

"  They  could  not  think  of  such  nonsense !" 

"It's  the  sensible  plan,  though,  after  all,"  said  he,  pertinacious 
ly,  and  yet  appearing  to  treat  the  subject  as  a  matter  of  specula. 
tion.  Jock  o'  Hazlcdean,  Young  Lochinvar,  Ronald  Macdonald, 
and  the  rest  of  them,  why,  they  said,  'Oh,  hang  it,  let's  have  no 
more  bother  about  your  friends;  if  you  are  willing  to  chance  it, 
so  am  I;  let's  make  a  bolt  of  it,  and  they  can  have  their  howl 
when  they  find  out.'  And  it  answered  well  enough,  according 
to  all  accounts.  I  rather  think  there  was  a  row  about  Bonny 
Glenlyon;  but  then  the  noble  sportsman  who  carried  her  oif 
carried  her  off  against  her  will;  and  that  is  a  mistake.  It's 
*  Will  ye  gang  to  the  Hielands,  Leezie  Lindsay  ?'  and  if  you  can 
persuade  her,  she  'kilts  up  her  coats  o'  green  satin,'  and  you  lift 
her  into  the  saddle ;  but  if  she  doesn't  see  it — if  she  thinks  it  isn't 
good  enough — you  drop  the  subject." 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  reading  a  good  many  songs,"  said 
Shcna  Van,  rather  coldly.  "But  people  don't  go  on  in  that  way 
in  ordinary  life." 

"  Perhaps  it  might  be  better  if  they  did  occasionally,"  said 
he.  "You  remember  Jack  Melville,  of  course?" 

"Oh,  certainlv,"  said  she,  with  some  eagerness,  for  she 
thought  he  would  now  leave  that  other  perilous  topic. 

"  Well,  I  remember  one  night,  in  my  rooms,  when  we  wore 
at  Oxford  together,  he  propounded  the  theory  that  morality  is 
merely  a  system  of  laws  devised  by  the  aged  and  worn-out  for 
keeping  young  people  straight.  Of  course  it  was  only  a  joke; 
but  it  startled'  the  boys  a  bit.  And  although  it  was  only  a  joke, 
mind  yon,  there  was  something  in  it;  1  mean,  for  e.\;.n;}>li ,  that 
it  doesn't  follow,  because  you're  seventy,  you  know  what  i&  Lts>t 


YOLAXDK.  381 

for  a  person  of  fivc-ana-twcnty.     You  may  know  what  is  most 
prudent,  from  the  money  point  of  view ;  but  you  don't  : 
s.-irily  know  what  is  host.      You  look  with  dii'iVivnt  eyes.      And 
then-  is  a  great  deal  too  much  of  that  going  on  nowadays." 

"Of  what?"  she  asked,  innocently. 

"  Oh,  of  treating  life  as  if  everything  were  a  question  of 
money,"  replied  this  profound  philosopher — who  had  f«>r  the 
moment  forgotten  all  about  Corrievreak  in  his  anxiety  to  get  a. 
peep  at  Shena  Van's  unfathomable  blue  eyes. 

Miss  Stewart  now  returned  to  one  of  those  inhuman  periodi- 
cals; and  he  searched  his  wits  in  vain  for  some  subject  that 
would  draw  her  thence.  Moreover,  lie  began  to  think  that  this 
train  was  going  at  a  mercilous  speed.  They  smashed  through 
Lockerbie.  They  had  scarcely  a  glimpse  of  Ecclcfechan.  Kirtlo- 
bridge  went  by  like  a,  flash  of  lightning.  And  then  he  recol- 
lected that  very  soon  they  would  be  at  Gretna  Green. 

"  Shena,"  said  he,  eagerly — "  Shena,  have  you  been  as  far 
south  as  this  before?" 

"  Oh  no,"  she  answered.  "  I  have  never  been  farther  south 
than  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow.  But  Mary  Vincent  is  to  be  at 
the  station  waiting  for  me." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that.  Don't  you  know  that  soon  you  will 
be  at  Gretna  ?  Don't  you  know  you  will  soon  be  crossing  the 
Border?  AVhy,  you  should  be  interested  in  that!  It  is  your 
first  entrance  into  England.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  moment  you 
are  in  England  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  if  you  please,"  said  Miss  Stewart,  condescending  to 
look  out  and  regard  the  not  very  picturesque  features  of  the  sur- 
rounding scenery. 

"  Well,  you  be  ready  to  sec  a  lot  of  things  at  once,  for  I 
don't  know  whether  you  actually  see  Gretna  Green  church ;  but 
1  will  show  you  the  little  stream  that  divides  the  two  countries 
— that  was  the  stream  the  runaway  lovers  were  so  anxious  to 
get  over.  1  am  told  they  have  extraordinary  stories  in  Gretna 
about  the  adventures  of  those  days — I  wonder  nobody  goes  and 
picks  them  up.  They  had  some  fun  in  those  days.  I  wish  I 
had  lived  then.  Modern  life  is  too  monotonous — don't  you 
think  so  r 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Shena  Van,  honestly. 

"  I  mean  I  wish  I  hail  lived  in  those  days  if  I  had  had  the 
chance  of  running  away  with  somebody  that  made  it  worth  the 
risk.  Shena,"  said  he,  "  supposing  you  had  lived  at  that  time, 
don't  you  think  you  would  rather  have  had  the  excitement  of 
that  kind  of  wedding  than  the  ordinary,  humdrum  sort  of  affair  ?" 


382  YOLANDE. 

"  I  have  never  thought  anything  about  it,"  said  Miss  Stewart 
with  some  precision — as  if  any  properly  conducted  young 
woman  would  give  a  moment's  consideration  to  the  manner  in 
which  she  might  wish  to  be  married ! 

"  Look  !  look  !"  said  lie,  jumping  up,  and  involuntarily  put- 
ting his  hand  on  her  arm.  "  Look,  Shena!  The  village  is  over 
there — here  is  the  river,  see  ! — it  is  the  Sark — and  the  bridge  is 
down  there,  to  the  left  of  that  house — that  house  is  an  inn,  the 
last  in  England  on  the  old  coach-road — " 

She  took  away  her  arm. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  as  he  sat  down,  "  many  a  happy  couple  wore 
glad  to  find  their  great  big  George  the  Fourth  phaeton  clatter, 
ing  over  the  bridge  there — the  triumph  after  all  the  risk — 

Then  he  reflected  that  in  a  few  minutes'  time  they  would  be 
in  Carlisle  ;  and  this  made  him  rather  desperate ;  for  when  again 
should  he  see  Shena  Van — and  Shena  Van  alone  ? 

"  Can  you  imagine  yourself  living  at  that  time,  Shena ;  and 
if  I  were  to  ask  you  to  make  off  for  Gretna  with  me  and  get 
married,  what  would  you  say?" 

"  You — you  have  no  right  to  ask  me  such  a  question,"  said 
Shena  Van,  rather  breathlessly. 

"  There  would  have  been  no  chance  of  your  saying  *  yes '  ?" 
he  asked,  gently. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  she,  and  she  was  nerv- 
ously twisting  the  magazine  in  her  hand.  "  I — I  think  you  are 
forgetting.  You  are  forgetting  who  you  arc — who  I  am — and 
everything  that — that  once  happened — I  mean,  that  nothing 
happened — for  how  could  it  ?  And  to  ask  such  a  question- 
even  in  joke — well,  I  think  you  have  no  right  to  ask  me  such  a 
question,  and  the  absurdity  of  it  is  enough  answer." 

"  I  did  not  mean  it  as  a  joke  at  all,  Shena,"  said  he,  quite 
humbly,  and  yet  trying  to  catch  sight  of  her  eyes.  "  I  asked 
you  if  you  could  imagine  other  circumstances — other  circum> 
stances  in  which  I  might  ask  you  such  a  question.  Of  course, 
I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  offended  you — " 

"  I  think  there  has  been  enough  said,"  said  Miss  Stewart, 
quietly,  and  indeed  with  a  good  deal  of  natural  dignity. 

Just  before  they  were  going  into  Carlisle  station,  she  said: 

"1  hope,  Mr.  Leslie,  you  won't  misunderstand  me,  but — but, 
of  course  Miss  Vincent  and  her  friends  won't  know  who  you 
are,  and  I  would  rather  they  did  not  know.  There  is  always 
silly  talk  going  on;  it  begins  in  amusement,  and  then  people 
repeat  it  and  believe  it." 

"  I  shall   be  quite   a  stranger  to  you  when  we  get  into  the 


YOLANDE.  383 

station,"  said  lie.  "And  in  the  mean  time  I  will  say  good-by 
to  you;  and  you  must  tell  me  that  we  part  good  friends, 
although  you  do  seem  to  care  so  little  about  those  by-gone  days, 


"Good-by,"  said  she,  holding  out  her  hand  (but  with  her 
eyes  cast  down).  "And  perhaps  I  care  for  them  as  nun-h  as  I 
ought  ;  but  one  acquires  a  little  common-sense  as  one  grows  up. 
I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  trip  in  the  yacht,  Mr.  Leslie." 

At  the  station  he  got  out  first,  and  assisted  her  to  alight; 
then  he  got  a  porter  for  her,  and  raised  his  hat  to  her  with  the 
air  of  a  perfect  stranger,  as  she  disappeared  with  her  friends. 
Then  he  had  his  own  things  shifted  into  a  first-class  smoking 
compartment,  and  the  journey  was  resumed. 

It  was  a  lonely  journey.  There  was  something  wrong.  IIo 
already  hated  the  Juliet,  and  looked  forward  with  disgust  to 
being  thrown  on  the  society  of  a  brainless  young  idiot.  Nay, 
this  was  the  matter:  why  had  he  not  asked  Janet  Stewart  plump 
and  plain  ?  Why  had  he  not  asked  her  to  stop  at  Carstairs 
Junction,  and  go  back  with  him  to  Edinburgh  or  Glasgow, 
where  he  could  easily  have  found  friends  to  take  care  of  her 
until  the  special  license  had  been  obtained  ?  Why  had  he  not 
dared  his  fate  ?  Sometimes  women  were  captured  by  the  very 
suddenness  of  the  proposal. 

"  And  as  for  the  people  at  Lynn,"  he  was  saying  to  himself 
during  these  perturbed  meditations,  "  why,  then  they  might 
have  had  some  good  occasion  to  squawk.  They  might  have 
squawked  to  some  good  purpose  then.  But  I  missed  my  chance 
—  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  now  it  is  this  accursed  yacht  and 
that  insufferable  young  nincompoop  !" 

Things  did  not  look  altogether  serene  for  the  Right  Honor- 
able Lord  Dartown  of  Dartown,  County  Limerick,  and  Ashwood 
Manor,  Berks. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

A    SPY. 


IT  is  quite  impossible  to  describe  the  gladness  and  gratitude 
with  which  Yolande  read  the  letter  from  the  Master  of  Lynn, 
which  not  only  gave  her  her  freedom,  but  said  good-by  in  such 
a  friendly  fashion.  For  once  a  ray  of  sunlight  fell  on  a  life 
which  of  late  had  not  been  of  the  brightest. 


384  YOLANDE. 

"  Yolande,  what  is  the  matter?  Yon  have  had  good  news 
this  morning?"  said  the  mother,  coming  into  the  room,  and 
noticing  the  radiant  face  of  the  girl. 

44  Yes,  indeed,  mother — the  best  I  have  had  for  many  a  day," 
said  she,  and  she  led  her  mother  to  the  window,  and  put  her  in 
the  easy-chair,  and  patted  her  shoulder  affectionately.  "The 
best  news  I  have  had  for  many  a  day." 

"What  is  it?     May  I  ask?" 

For  an  instant  Yolande  hesitated ;  then  she  laughed,  and  put 
the  letter  in  her  pocket. 

"No;  it  would  be  too  long  to  explain.  But  shortly  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is,  mother — why,  only  that  one  of  the  friends 
I  know  in  the  Highlands  has  been  generous  and  kind  to  me. 
Is  it  a  wonderful  thing?  Is  it  new — unexpected?" 

"Ah,  you  ought  to  be  with  them,  Yolande:  not  here,  throw- 
ing away  your  time  on  me." 

"Ridiculous!  ridiculous !"  said  she,  in  her  French  way,  and 
then  with  a  light  step  and  a  bright  face  she  went  off  to  get 
writing  materials. 

"  DEAR  ARCHIE  "  (she  wrote), — "  It  is  so  good  of  you.  I  do 
not  deserve  it.  You  have  made  me  very  happy;  and  I  hope 
you  also  will  soon  be  reconciled  at  home,  and  everything  go 
well.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  you  offer  me  that  we  should  al- 
ways continue  friends,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  so ;  I  know  it  will 
on  my  side;  and  one  may  be  in  Inverness  some  day,  perhaps? 
— then  I  should  be  pleased  to  see  you  again,  and  also  your 
sister,  and  Colonel  Graham.  But  that  will  be  a  long  time,  if  at 
all;  for  my  mother,  though  she  is  much  better,  does  not  get 
strong  as  I  wish,  and  naturally  I  regain  with  her — perhaps  for 
always.  How  could  I  leave  her?  But  if  once  she  were  strong 
enough  to  travel,  then  one  might  perhaps  see  one's  friends,  in 
the  Highlands  or  elsewhere ;  and  in  the  mean  time  it  is  conso- 
lation to  know  that  they  remain  your  friends,  and  think  of  you 
occasionally.  Dear  Archie,  you  arc  really  too  kind  to  me,  :ti)d 
too  flattering  also;  but  you  can  not  expect  a  woman  to  fight 
very  hard  against  that,  so  I  am  glad  you  will  have  as  geiir-rous 
an  opinion  of'  me  as  is  possible,  even  if  it  is  exaggerated,  ;:nd 
perhaps  not  quite  true.  I  remember  your  speaking  of  your 
school-fellow  very  weil — is  he  the  most  favorable  of  companions 
for  a  vachting  voyage?  I  suppose  yon  are  o'oing  s;.':;h,  for  now 
the  days  are  becoming  cold,  and  we  are  thinking  of  going  away 
to  the  south  also.  How  strange  it  would  be  if  my  mother  and 
I  were  to  be  seated  on  one  of  the  terraces  at  Monte  Carlo,  aud 


YOLANDE.  385 

you  were  to  come  sailing  into  the  harbor  below  us!  You  must 
tell  me  the  name  of  the  yacht;  and  when  we  are  at  Nice  or 
Cannes,  or  such  places,  I  will  look  in  the  newspapers  for  the 
lists,  and  perhaps  hear  of  you. 

"  This  is  all  I  can  write  to  you  at  the  moment,  but  you  must 
believe  me  that  it  does  not  convey  to  you  anything  like  what  I 
feel.  You  will  excuse  me — perhaps  you  will  understand.  But 
I  will  not  forget  your  kindness. 

"  Your  grateful  YOLANDE.      r 

"  P.S. — I  will  do  as  you  wish  about  not  stating  any  reasons, 
though  I  am  afraid  that  is  only  another  part  of  your  con- 
sideration and  generosity  in  disguise." 

She  went  to  get  her  hat  and  cloak. 

"Tais-toi,  mon  gas, 
Et  ne  ris  pas, 
Tout  va  de  inal  enpire," 

she  was  humming  to  herself,  most  inappropriately,  as  she  put 
them  on.  And  then  she  went  back  to  her  mother. 

"  Will  you  get  ready,  mother  ?  I  have  a  letter  to  post.  And 
I  want  to  see  if  they  can  get  me  as  much  more  of  that  fur  as  will 
make  a  hood  for  a  travelling  cloak — ah,  you  have  no  idea  how 
comfortable  it  is  if  the  weather  is  cold,  and  you  are  on  a  long 
railway  journey." 

"  Why,  you  spoil  me,  Yolande — you  make  a  petted  child  of 
me,"  the  mother  protested. 

"  Come,  get  on  your  things,"  said  she,  not  heeding.  "  And 
perhaps  when  we  are  seeking  for  the  fur  I  might  get  a  winter 
cloak  for  Jane.  Does  she  not  deserve  a  little  present?  She  has 
been  very  attentive — has  she  not,  do  you  think  ?" 

"  When  she  has  had  the  chance,  Yolande,"  the  mother  s=:.id, 
with  a  smile.  "But  you  do  everything  yourself,  child." 

The  alteration  in  the  girl's  manner  after  the  receipt  of  that 
letter  was  most  marked.  Gladness  dwelt  in  her  eyes,  and  spohf 
in  her  voice.  She  grew  so  hopeful,  too,  about  her  mother's 
health  that  now,  when  they  went  out  for  a  morning  stroll  anion^ 
the  shops,  she  would  buy  this  or  the  other  small  article  likely  to  be 
of  use  to  them  in  travelling.  That  was  partly  why  she  presented 
Jane  with  that  winter  cloak;  Jane  was  to  be  their  sole  attend- 
ant. And  now  all  her  talk  was  about  orange  groves  and  palms, 
and  marble  terraces  shaded  from  the  sun,  and  the  summer-blue 
waters  of  the  south. 

13ut  there  was  one  person   who  certainly  did   not  regard   !'•  i 


386  YOLANDE. 

breaking  off  of  this  engagement  with  equanimity.  Immediately 
on  receiving  the  brief  note  sent  from  the  Station  Hotel  at  Inver- 
ness, Mrs.  Graham,  astonished  and  indignant  and  angry,  posted 
over  straightway  to  Lynn,  and  told  her  tale,  and  demanded  ex- 
planations. Well,  they  had  no  explanations  to  offer.  If  it 
were  true,  Lord  Lynn  said,  indifferently,  it  was  a  very  good 
thing ;  but  he  did  not  choose  to  bother  his  head  about  it.  Then 
pretty  Mrs.  Graham  had  a  few  words,  verging  on  warmth,  with 
tier  Aunt  Colquhoun;  but  she  quickly  saw  that  that  would  Lot 
mend  matters.  Thereupon  she  thought  she  would  appeal  to 
Yolande  herself;  and  she  did  so — dating  the  letter  from  Lynn 
Towers. 

"Mr  DEAR  YOLANDE"  (she  said), — "Is  it  true?  Or  has 
Archie  been  making  a  fool  of  us?  Of  course  he  is  off  without 
a  word  of  explanation,  and  I  can  not  imagine  it  possible  thaA  his 
and  your  engagement  should  have  been  so  suddenly  broken  off, 
and  without  any  apparent  cause.  Forgive  me  for  interfering, 
dearest  Yolande ;  I  know  it  is  no  concern  of  mine,  except  in  so 
far  as  this  goes,  that  Archie  is  my  brother,  and  I  have  a  right 
to  know  whether  he  acted  as  he  should  have  done,  and  as  be- 
comes the  honor  of  our  family.  I  have  a  right  to  know  that. 
At  the  same  time  it  seems  incredible  that  you  and  he  should  have 
parted — and  so  suddenly — without  any  warning;  for  although 
there  was  some  disagreement  here,  as  he  probably  hinted  to  you, 
still  that  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  him  and  you  ultimately, 
and  he  distinctly  informed  me  that  his  position  with  regard  to 
you  was  not  affected,  and  would  not  be  affected,  by  anything 
happening  here.  I  hope  I  am  not  giving  you  pain  in  making 
these  inquiries,  dear  Yolande  ;  but  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  know 
that  my  brother  conducted  himself  honorably  ;  for  it  was  through 
us,  you  may  remember,  that  he  made  your  acquaintance,  and 
Iboth  Jim  and  I  would  consider  ourselves  in  a  measure  responsi- 
ble if  he  has  behaved  badly.  But  I  dare  say  it  is  not  so  serious 
as  that.  I  know  he  is  impatient  of  worry,  and  probably  he  has 
asked  you  to — well,  I  don't  know  what  he  could  fairly  ask;  and 
all  I  can  say  is  that  I  hope,  if  matters  are  as  he  says,  that  he  has 
done  nothing  to  cause  us  reproach.  Yrou  may  well  think  that  we 
shall  both — I  mean  Jim  and  I— be  exceedingly  grieved  if  it  is 
true,  for  we  both  looked  forward  to  having  you  as  our  sister  and 
friend,  and  you  may  depend  on  it  that  if  there  had  been  any 
temporary  disagreement  in  one  quarter,  that  would  have  been 
more  than  atoned  for  in  the  warmth  of  the  welcome  you  would 
have  got  from  us.  Pray  forgive  me,  dearest  Yolande,  for  beg- 


YOLANDE.  387 

ging  a  line  from  you  at  your  very  earliest  convenience ;  it  is  not 
idle  curiosity,  and  I  trust  your  answer  will  be  that  Archie's  ex- 
aggeration only  means  that  for  a  while  he  is  leaving  you  to  the 
duties  that  now  occupy  you,  and  that  in  time  everything  will  be 
as  it  was.  My  best  love  to  you,  dearest  Yolande,  from  your 
affectionate  friend,  MARY  GRAHAM. 

"  RS. — Surely  it  cannot  be  true,  or  your  father  would  have 
told  me  on  the  day  of  his  leaving  Allnam-ba?  Will  you  please 
write  to  Inverstroy  ?" 

Yolande  remembered  her  promise  to  the  Master  of  Lynn,  and 
deemed  it  safest  to  say  as  little  as  possible.  So  she  merely 
wrote : 

"My  DEAR  MARY, — T  hasten  at  once  to  say  that  your  broth- 
er's conduct  has  been  always  and  throughout  most  honorable, 
and  that  in  the  breaking  off  of  our  engagement  it  has  been  even 
more — it  has  been  most  manly  ajid  generous.  Pray  have  no 
fears  on  that  head.  As  for  the  reasons,  it  is  scarcely  worth 
while  explaining  them,  when  it  is  all  over  and  gone  now.  Do 
you  think  you  need  tell  me  that  you  would  have  given  me  wel- 
come in  the  Highlands  ? — indeed,  I  have  had  experience  of  that 
already.  I  hope  still  to  be  your  friend,  and  perhaps  some  day, 
in  the  Highlands  or  elsewhere,  we  may  be  once  more  together. 
In  the  mean  time  please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  hus- 
band, and  believe  me,  yours  affect 'o  lately, 

"  YOLANDE  WINTERBOURNE." 

Yolande  now  seemed  to  consider  that  episode  in  her  life  as 
over  and  done  with,  and  set  herself  all  the  more  assiduously  to 
the  service  of  her  mother,  who,  poor  woman !  though  she  could 
not  fail  to  see  the  greater  cheerfulness  and  content  of  the  girl, 
an  1  probably  herself  derived  some  favorable  influence  from  that, 
still  remained  in  a  weak  and  invalidish  condition  which  prevent- 
ed their  migration  to  the  south.  However,  something  now  oc- 
curred which  stopped,  once  and  for  all,  her  recurrent  entreaties 
that  Yolande  should  go  away  to  her  own  friends  and  leave  her 
by  herself.  One  day,  as  she  was  seated  in  her  accustomed  easy- 
chair,  looking  at  the  people  and  the  sea  and  the  ships,  she  sud- 
denly uttered  a  slight  exclamation,  and  then  quickly  rose  and 
withdrew  from  the  window. 

"  Yolande  dear  !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of  terror — u  Yo- 
lande !" 

"  Yes,  mother,"  the  girl  answered,  looking  calmly  up  from  her 
sewing. 


388  YOLANDE. 

And  then  she  saw  that  her  mother  was  strangely  agitated,  and 
instantly  she  rose  and  caught  her  by  the  hand. 

"What  is  it,  mother?" 

"  I  have  seen  that  man  that  you  know  of — Romford." 

«  Well,  what  of  that?"  the  girl  said,  quietly. 

"  But  he  was  looking  up  at  the  house,  Yolande,"  said  she,  ob- 
viously in  great  alarm.  "  He  must  know  that  we  are  here.  He 
must  have  sought  us  out." 

"Very  well,  and  what  of  that?"  said  Yolande.  And  she 
added,  with  a  gentle  touch  of  scorn :  "  Does  he  wish  to  be  asked 
to  have  some  tea  with  us  ?  I  think  we  are  not  at  home  just  now." 

"  But  you  don't  understand,  child — you  don't  understand," 
said  the  mother,  with  a  kind  of  shiver.  "  To  see  him  was  to 
recall  everything.  I  was  in  a  dream,  and  now  it  looks  hideous 
to  me  ;  and  the  thought  of  his  coming  here,  and  wishing  to  take 
me  back  to  that  life,  when  I  did  not  care  whether  each  day  was 
to  be  the  last — " 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Yolande,  "  is  it  of  much  consequence 
what  the  gentleman  wishes?  It  is  of  more  consequence  what  I 
wish ;  and  that  is  that  you  are  to  remain  with  me." 

"  Oh  yes,  with  you,  Yolande,  with  you  !"  she  exclaimed,  and 
she  eagerly  caught  both  hands  of  the  girl  and  held  them  tight. 
''Always  with  you — always,  always!  I  am  not  going  away 
from  you — I  dare  not  go  away.  I  have  asked  you  to  go  to  your 
friends,  and  leave  me  by  myself;  but  I  will  not  ask  it  again;  I 
am  afraid ;  if  I  were  alone,  he  might  come  and  speak  to  me — 
and — and  persuade  me  that  his  wife  was  the  one  who  best  knew 
how  to  take  care  of  me.  Oh,  when  I  think  of  it,  Yolande,  it 
maddens  me !" 

"Then  you  need  not  think  of  it,  mother  dear,"  said  the  girl, 
pressing  her  to  sit  down.  "Leave  Mr.  Romford  to  me.  Oh,  I 
will  make  him  content  with  me,  if  he  chooses  to  be  troublesome. 
Do  not  fear." 

"If  he  should  come  to  the  house,  Yolande?" 

"  The  ladies  do  not  receive  this  afternoon,"  she  answered, 
promptly,  "nor  to-morrow  afternoon,  nor  the  next  day  morning, 
nor  any  other  time,  when  the  gentleman  calls  whom  you  will  de- 
scribe to  the  landlady  and  her  two  girls,  and  also  to  Jane.  As 
for  me,  I  scarcely  saw  him — I  was  too  bewildered,  and  too 
anxious  about  you,  mother,  and  then  at  last,  when  he  did  come 
near  to  mo,pouf!  away  he  went  on  the  pavement.  And  as  for 
him  now,  I  do  not  care  for  him  that  /"  and  she  flicked  her  n. id- 
die  finger  from  the  tip  of  her  thumb. 

"But  he  may  spi-uk  to  us  on  the  street,  child  T' 


389 

"And  if  we  do  not  wish  to  be  spoken  to,  is  there  no  protec- 
tion .'"  said  Yolande,  proudly.  "Come  to  the  window,  mother, 
and  t  will  show  you  something1." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  said,  shrinking  had;. 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  tell  yon.  Do  you  not  know  the  good- 
natured  policeman  who  told  us  when  the  harness  was  wrong  at 
the  shaft,  and  put  it  right  for  us?  And  if  we  say  to  him  that 
we  do  not  wish  to  have  any  of  the  gentleman's  conversation,  is 
it  not  enough  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  I  could  go  back  now,"  the  mother  said,  ab- 
sently, as  if  yhe  were  looking  over  the  life,  or  rather  the  living 
death,  she  had  led.  "  I  have  seen  you.  I  could  not  go  back 
and  forget  you;  and  he  a  trouble  to  you,  and  to  your  father. 
He  must  be  a  forgiving  man  to  have  let  you  come  to  me  ;  and  yet 
not  wise.  I  was  content;  and  those  people  were  kind  to  me. 
Why  should  your  life  be  sacrificed?" 

"  What  a  dreadful  sacrifice,  then !"  exclaimed  Yolande,  with 
a  smile.  "  Look  around — it  is  a  dreadful  sacrifice  !  And  when 
we  arc  at  Cannes,  and  at  San  Remo,  and  at  Bordighera,  it  will 
be  even  more  horrible  and  dreadful." 

"  But  no,  no,  I  can  not  go  back  now,"  she  said.  "  The  sight 
of  that  man  recalls  everything  to  me.  And  yet  they  were  kind 
to  me.  I  could  do  as  I  pleased ;  and  it  was  all  in  a  kind  of 
dream.  I  seemed  to  be  walking  through  the  aight  always. 
And  indeed  I  did  not  like  the  daytime — I  liked  to  be  in  my 
own  room  alone  in  the  evening,  with  newspapers  and  books — 
and  it  was  a  kind  of  half-sleep  with  waking  pictures — sometimes 
of  you,  Yolande — very  often  of  you ;  but  not  as  you  are  nown  - 
and  then  they  would  come  and  torture  me  with  telling  me  hov 
badly  I  was  treated  in  not  being  allowed  to  see  you — and  then — 
then  I  did  not  know  what  I  did.  It  is  terrible  to  think  of." 

"  Don't  think  of  it,  mother,  then." 

"  It  is  all  before  me  again,"  the  wretched  woman  said,  with  a 
kind  of  despair.  "  I  see  what  I  have  been,  and  what  people 
have  thought  of  me.  How  can  I  raise  myself  again  ?  It  is  no 
use  trying.  My  husband  away  from  me,  my  friends  ashamed  to 
speak  of  me,  my  child  throwing  away  her  young  life  to  no  end 
— why  should  I  try  ? — I  should  be  better  away — anywhere — to 
hide  myself,  and  be  no  longer  an  injury  and  a  shame." 

"  Mother,"  said  Yolande,  firmly  (for  she  had  had  to  fight 
those  fits  of  hopelessness  before,  and  knew  the  way  of  them  well), 
"  don't,  talk  nonsense.  I  have  undertaken  to  make  you  well,  and 
I  have  very  nearly  succeeded,  and  I  am  not  going  to  have  my 
patient  break  down  on  mv  hands,  and  people  say  I  am  a  bad 


390  YOLANDE. 

doctor.  I  wonder  what  you  would  have  said  if  I  had  called  in 
a  real  doctor,  to  give  you  physic  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  \vhereas 
I  get  all  kinds  of  nice  things  for  yon,  and  take  you  out  for  drives 
and  walks,  and  never  a  word  of  medicine  mentioned.  And  I 
don't  think  it  is  fair,  when  you  are  getting  on  so  well,  to  let 
yourself  drop  into  a  fit  of  despondency,  for  that  will  only  make 
you  worse,  and  give  me  so  much  longer  trouble  before  I  have 
you  pulled  through.  For  you  are  not  going  to  shake  me  off — 
no,  not  at  all — and  the  sooner  you  are  well,  the  sooner  we  are 
off  to  France  and  Italy,  and  the  longer  you  are  not  well,  the 
longer  it  is  you  keep  me  in  Worthing,  which  perhaps  you  will 
not  find  so  cheerful  when  the  winter  comes.  Already  it  is  cold; 
some  morning  when  you  get  up  you  will  see — what?  nothing  but 
snow! — everything  white,  and  then  you  will  say  it  is  time  to  fly, 
and  that  is  right,  but  why  not  sooner  ?" 

"  Well,  to  be  beside  you,  Yolande,"  said  the  mother,  stroking 
the  girl's  hand,  "  is  what  I  live  for.  If  it  were  not  for  that,  I 
should  not  care  what  happened." 

Yolande  professed  to  treat  this  Mr.  Romford  as  a  person  of 
little  account;  but  she  was  in  her  inmost  heart  a  trifle  more  dis- 
quieted than  outwardly  she  made  believe.  She  shrewdly  sus- 
pected that  he  was  not  the  sort  of  gentleman  to  be  disporting 
himself  at  a  watering-place  merely  for  amusement ;  and  she  made 
no  doubt  that,  somehow  or  other,  he  had  found  out  their  address, 
and  had  followed  them  hither  in  the  hope  of  getting  her  mother 
once  more  under  his  control.  As  to  that,  she  had  no  fear ;  but, 
to  make  sure  that  he  had  no  monetary  or  other  claim  that 
could  warrant  his  even  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  house,  she 
resolved  to  write  at  once  to  Lawrence  &  Lang.  The  answer  was 
prompt;  she  got  it  by  the  first  post  next  morning;  and  it  said 
that  as  "  our  Mr.  Lang,"  by  a  fortunate  accident,  happened  to  be 
at  the  moment  in  Brighton,  they  had  telegraphed  to  him  to  go 
along  and  see  her ;  consequently  Miss  Winterbourne  might  expect 
him  to  call  on  her  during  the  course  of  the  day. 

This  was  far  from  being  in  accordance  with  Yolande's  wish ; 
but  she  could  not  now  help  it ;  and  so  she  went  to  her  mother, 
and  said  that  a  gentleman  would  probably  call  that  day  with 
whom  she  wanted  to  have  a  few  minutes'  private  talk ;  and 
would  the  mother  kindly  remain  in  her  room  for  that  time? 

"Xot — not  Romford?"  said  she,  in  alarm. 

"  I  said  a  gentleman,  mother,"  Yolande  answered. 

And  then  a  strange  kind  of  glad  light  came  into  the  mother's 
face ;  and  she  took  her  daughter's  hands  in  hers. 

"  Can  it  be,  then,  Yolande  ?     There  is  one  who  is  dear  to  you  ?" 


YOLANDE.  391 

The  girl  turned  very  pale  for  a  second  or  so ;  but  she  forced 
herself  to  laugh. 

"Nonsense,  mother.  The  gentleman  is  calling  on  business. 
It  is  very  inconvenient;  but  the  firm  told  him  to  come  along 
from  Brighton  ;  and  now  I  can't  prevent  him." 

"  I  had  hoped  it  was  something  more,"  said  the  mother,  gen- 
tly, as  she  turned  to  her  book  again. 

Mr.  Lang  called  about  half-past  twelve. 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  should  have  taken  so  much  trouble 
about  so  small  an  affair,"  said  Yolande. 

"  But  you  must  understand,  Miss  Wintcrbourne,"  said  the  tall, 
white-haired  man,  with  the  humorous  smile  and  good-natured 
eyes,  "that  our  firm  are  under  the  strictest  injunctions  to  pay 
instant  heed  to  the  smallest  things  you  ask  of  us.  You  have  no 
idea  how  we  have  been  lectured  and  admonished.  But  I  grant 
you  this  is  nothing.  The  man  is  a  worthless  fellow,  who  is 
probably  disappointed,  and  he  may  hang  about,  but  you  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  him.  Everything  has  been  paid;  we  have  a 
formal  acquittance.  I  dare  say  the  scoundrel  got  three  times 
what  was  really  owing  to  him,  but  it  was  not  a  prodigious  sum. 
Now  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?  I  can't  prosecute  him  for 
being  in  Worthing." 

"  No ;  but  what  am  /  to  do  if  he  persists  in  speaking  to  my 
mother  when  we  are  out  walking  ?" 

"  Give  him  in  charge.  He'll  depart  quick  enough.  But  I 
should  say  you  had  little  to  fear  in  that  direction.  Unless  he 
has  a  chance  of  speaking  to  your  mother  alone,  he  is  not  likely 
to  attempt  it  at  all." 

"  And  that  he  shall  not  have ;  I  can  take  care  of  that,"  said 
Yolande,  with  decision. 

"  You  really  need  not  trouble  about  it.  Of  course  if  he 
found  your  mother  in  the  hands  of  a  stranger,  what  happened 
before  might  happen  now  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  would  go  and  try 
to  talk  her  over ;  would  say  that  she  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  he  and  his  wife  were  waiting  on  her,  that  they  were  her 
real  friends,  and  all  that  stuff.  But  I  don't  think  he  will  tackle 
you,"  he  added,  with  a  friendly  sort  of  smile. 

"  He  shall  not  find  my  mother  alone,"  said  Yolande. 

"  I  hear  everything  is  going  on  well  ?"  he  ventured  to  say. 

"  I  hope  so — I  think  so,"  she  answered. 

"  It  was  risky — I  may  say,  it  was  a  courageous  thing  for  you 
to  do,  but  you  bad  warm  friends  looking  on." 

She  started  and  looked  up,  but  he  proceeded  to  something 
else. 


392  YOLANDS. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  not  see  Mrs.  Winterbourne — or  may  I  ?" 

"I  think  not,"  said  Yolande.  "It  would  only  alarm  her,  or 
at  least  excite  her,  and  I  am  keeping  all  .excitement  away  from 
her.  And  if  you  will  excuse  me,  Mr.  Lang,  I  will  not  keep 
her  waiting.  It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  have  come  along  from 
Brighton." 

"  I  dare  not  disobey  such  very  strict  orders,"  said  he,  with  a 
smile,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  and  opened  the  door. 

She  did  not  ring  the  bell,  however,  for  the  maid-servant ;  she 
said  she  would  herself  see  him  out,  and  she  followed  him  down- 
stairs. In  the  passage  she  said : 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something,  Mr.  Lang.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  who  it  was  who  explained  to  you  what  you  were  to 
do  for  me  when  I  arrived  in  London,  for  I  think  I  know." 

"Then  there  can  be  no  harm  in  telling  you,  my  dear  young 
lady.  He  called  again  on  us,  about  a  couple  of  weeks  ago,  on 
his  way  north,  and  laid  us  under  more  stringent  orders  than 
ever.  Mr.  John  Melville.  Was  that  your  guess?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Yolande,  with  her  eyes  downcast,  but  in  per- 
fectly cairn  tones.  "I  thought  it  was  he.  I  suppose  he  was 
quite  well  when  you  saw  him  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  apparently  —  certainly." 

4<  Good-by,  Mr.  Lang.  It  is  so  kind  of  you  to  have  taken  all 
this  trouble!" 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Mr.  Lang,  as  lie  opened  the  door  and 
went  his  way.  And  he  also  had  his  guess. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

SNOW     AND    SUNLIGHT. 

YOLANDE,  however,  was  a  strict  and  faithful  guardian ;  and 
Mr.  Uomford,  no  doubt  finding  it  impossible  to  get  speech  of 
her  mother  alone,  had  probably  left  the  place,  for  they  saw  no 
more  of  him.  Indeed,  they  were  thinking  of  other  matters. 
Yolande  was  anxious  to  get  away  to  the  south,  and  yet  afraid  to 
risk  the  fatigue  of  travelling  on  a  system  obviously  so  frail  ;:s 
her  mother's  was.  She  kept  lingering  on  and  on  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  some  improvement  taking  place,  but  her  mother,  though 
much  more  cheerful  in  spirits,  did  not  seem  to  gain  in  strength  ; 
indeed,  she  seemed  physically  so  weak  that  again  and  again 


YOLANDE.  393 

Yolnmle  postponed  their  departure.  This  also  had  its  draw- 
backs, for  the  weather  was  In-coining  more  and  more  wintrv, 
and  out-of-door  exercise  \vas  he'ni--  iv-tri-'tcd.  It  was  too  cold 
for  driving;  Volande  had  sent  back  the  pony-carriage.  Then 
she  dared  not  expose  her  mother  to  northerly  or  easterly  winds. 
Frequently  now  she  had  to  go  out  for  her  morning  walk  by 
herself,  a  brisk  promenade  once  or  twice  up  and  down  the  pier 
being  enough  to  send  her  home  with  pink  cheeks.  At  last  she 
said  to  her  mother,  with  some  timidity, 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  mother,  that  we  might  take  some 
one's  advice  as  to  whether  you  arc  strong  enough  to  bear  the 
journey." 

"  I  think  I  could  go,"  the  mother  said.  "  Oh  yes,  I  should 
like  to  try,  Yolande,  for  you  seem  so  anxious  about  it,  and  of 
course  Worthing  must  be  dull  for  you." 

The  girl  did  not  mind  this  reference  to  herself. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  how  it  could  be  most  easily  done, 
mother.  I  would  get  a  carriage  here,  and  have  you  nicely 
wrapped  up  from  the  cold,  and  we  should  drive  to  Newhavcn ; 
that  would  be  more  comfortable  than  the  tedious  railway 
journey  round  by  Lewes.  Then  we  should  choose  our  own 
time  of  crossing  when  the  sea  was  calm  ;  and  the  railway  journey 
from  Dieppe  to  Paris  is  so  much  shorter  than  the  Calais  route. 
But  to  Marseilles — that  is  a  terrible  long  journey." 

"  I  think  I  could  do  it,  Yolande ;  I  see  you  arc  so  anxious  to 
get  away — and  no  wonder." 

"  I  am  anxious  for  your  sake,  mother.  But  I  am  afraid  to 
take  the  responsibility.  Would  you  mind  my  asking  some  one? 
Would  you  mind  my  taking  some  advice  ?" 

"But  you  are  the  best  doctor  I  have  ever  had,"  said  the 
mother,  with  a  smile.  "  I  would  rather  take  your  advice  than 
any  one's." 

"  But  I  am  afraid,  mother,"  she  said.  And  then  she  added, 
cautiously,  "  It  was  not  the  advice  of  a  doctor  I  was  thinking  of." 

"  Whose,  then  ?" 

The  girl  went  and  stood  by  her  mother's  side,  and  put  liei 
hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Mother,  my  father  is  fretting  that  he  can  be  of  no  service  to 
us." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Yolande !"  the  other  cried,  with  a  sudden 
terror.  "  Don't  think  of  it,  Yolande — it  would  kill  me — he  will 
never  forgive  me." 

"  There  is  no  forgiveness  needed,  mother;  all  that  is  over  and 
forgotten.  Mother — " 


394  YOLANDE. 

But  the  mere  mention  of  this  proposal  seemed  to  have  driven 
the  poor  woman  into  a  kind  of  frenzy.  She  clung  to  her  daugh- 
ter's arm,  and  said  in  a  wild  sort  of  wray, 

"  If  I  saw  him,  Yolande,  I  should  think  he  was  coming  to  take 
you  away  from  me — to  take  you  away  from  me  !  It  would  be 
the  old  days  come  back  again — and — and  the  lawyers — " 

She  was  all  trembling  now,  and  clinging  to  the  girl's  arm. 

"Stay  with  me,  Yolande;  stay  with  me.  I  know  I  have  done 
great  harm  and  injury,  and  I  can  not  ask  him  to  forgive  me;  but 
you — I  have  not  harmed  you ;  I  can  look  into  your  face  with- 
out reproach." 

"  I  will  stay  with  you,  mother ;  don't  be  afraid.  Now  pray 
calm  yourself ;  I  won't  speak  of  that  again,  if  it  troubles  you ; 
we  shall  be  just  by  our  two  selves  for  as  long  as  ever  you  like ; 
and  as  for  lawyers,  and  doctors,  or  anybody  else,  why,  you  shall 
not  be  allowed  to  know  that  they  exist." 

So  she  gradually  got  her  mother  calmed  again ;  and  by-and- 
by,  when  she  got'  the  opportunity,  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to 
her  father,  saying  that  at  present  it  was  impossible  he  should 
come  and  see  them,  for  that  the  mere  suggestion  of  such  a 
thing  had  violently  alarmed  and  excited  her  mother,  and  that 
excitement  of  any  kind  did  her  most  serious  mischief.  She 
added  that  she  feared  she  would  have  to  take  on  her  own  slioul* 
ders  the  responsibility  of  deciding  whether  they  should  attempt 
the  journey ;  that  most  likely  they  would  try  to  proceed  by 
short  stages;  and  that,  in  that  case,  she  would  write  to  him  again 
for  directions  as  to  where  they  should  go  on  arriving  in  Paris. 

That,  indeed,  was  what  it  came  to ;  although  the  girl  naturally 
wished  to  share  with  some  qualified  person  the  responsibility  of 
the  decision.  But  now,  as  heretofore,  whenever  she  hinted  that 
they  ought  to  call  in  a  skilled  physician,  merely  for  a  consultation, 
the  mother  betrayed  such  a  nervous  horror  of  the  idea  of  seeing 
any  stranger  that  the  proposal  had  to  be  dropped. 

"Why,  Yolande,  why?"  she  would  say.  "I  am  well  enough 
— only  a  little  weak.  I  shall  be  stronger  by-and-by.  What 
could  you  ask  of  a  doctor  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  mother,"  the  girl  said,  rather  vaguely,  "  one  might 
leave  it  to  himself  to  make  suggestions.  Perhaps  he  might  be 
of  some  help — who  knows  ?  There  are  tonics  now,  do  you  sec, 
that  might  strengthen  you — quinine,  perhaps? — or — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  in  rather  a  sad  fashion.  "  I  have  done 
with  drugs,  Yolande.  You  shall  be  my  doctor;  I  don't  want 
any  one  else.  I  am  in  your  hands." 

"  It  is  too  great  a  responsibility,  mother." 


YOLANDE.  395 

"You  mean  to  decide  whether  we  leave  Worthing?"  said  the 
mother,  cheerfully.  "Well,  I  will  decide  for  you,  Yolande.  I 
say — let  us  go." 

"  We  could  go  slowly— rin  short  distances,"  the  girl  said, 
thoughtfully.  "  Waiting  here  or  there  for  fine  weather,  do  you 
see,  mother  ?  For  example,  we  would  not  set  out  at  this  mo- 
ment, for  the  winds  are  boisterous  and  cold.  And  then,  mother, 
if  there  is  fatigue — if  you  are  very  tired  with  the  journey,  think 
of  the  long  rest  and  idleness  at  Nice — and  the  soft  air." 

"  Very  well,  Yolande ;  whatever  you  do  will  be  right. 
And  I  am  ready  to  set  out  with  you  whenever  you  please." 

Yolande  now  set  about  making  final  preparations  for  leaving 
England ;  and  amongst  the  first  of  these  was  the  writing  a  letter 
to  Mrs.  Bell.  It  was  little  more  than  a  message  of  good-by ; 
but  still  she  intimated  that  she  should  be  glad  to  hear  how  af- 
fairs were  going  on  at  Gress,  and  also  what  was  being  done 
about  Monaglen.  And  she  begged  Mrs.  Bell's  acceptance  of 
the  accompanying  bits  of  lace,  which  she  had  picked  up  at  some 
charitable  institution  in  the  neighborhood,  and  which  she  thought 
would  look  nice  on  black  silk. 

The  answer,  which  arrived  speedily,  was  as  follows : 

GRESS,  the  llth  November. 

"  MY  DEAR  YOUNG  LADY, — It  was  a  great }  onor  to  me  to  re- 
ceive the  letter  from  you  this  morning,  and  a  great  pleasure  to 
me  to  know  that  you  are  well,  this  leaving  us  all  here  in  the 
same.  Maybe  I  would  have  taken  the  liberty  to  write  to  you  before 
now,  but  that  I  had  not  your  address,  and  Duncan,  the  keeper,  was 
ignorant  of  it.  And  I  had  a  mind  to  ask  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham, seeing  her  drive  past  one  day  on  her  return;  but  they  glai- 
ket  lassies  that  were  to  have  told  me  when  they  saw  her  come 
along  the  road  again  were  forgetful,  as  usual,  and  so  I  missed 
the  opportunity.  My  intention  was  to  tell  you  about  Monaglen, 
which  you  are  so  kind  as  to  ask  about.  It  is  all  settled  now, 
and  the  land  made  over  to  its  rightful  possessor ;  and  I  may  say 
that  when  the  Lord,  in  His  good  time,  sees  fit  to  take  me,  I  will 
close  my  eyes  in  peace,  knowing  that  I  have  done  better  with 
what  was  intrusted  to  me  than  otherwise  might  have  happened. 
But  in  the  mean  time  my  mind  is  ill  at  ease,  and  I  am  not  thank- 
ful for  such  mercies  as  have  been  vouchsafed  to  me,  because  I 
would  fain  have  Mr.  Melville  informed  of  what  has  been  done, 
and  yet  not  a  word  dare  I  speak.  At  the  best  he  is  a  by-ordi- 
nar  proud,  camstrary  man ;  but  ever  since  he  has  come  back 
this  last  time  he  is  more  unsettled  and  distant  like — not  con- 


396  YOLANDE. 

versing  with  people,  as  was  his  custom,  but  working  at  all  kinds 
of  hours,  as  if  his  life  depended  on  they  whigmaleeries ;  and  then 
again  away  over  the  hills  and  moors  by  himself,  without  even 
the  pastime  of  fishing  that  used  to  occupy  him.  Deed,  I  tried 
once  to  tell  him,  but  my  brain  got  into  a  kind  of  whummle;  I 
could  not  get  out  a  word ;  and  as  lie  was  like  to  think  me  an 
idiwut,  I  made  some  excuse  about  the  school-laddies,  and  away 
he  went.  Howsever,  what's  done  can  not  be  undone.  The  lawyers 
vouch  for  that;  and  a  pretty  penny  they  charged  me.  But 
Monaglen  is  his,  to  have  and  to  hold,  whether  he  wil  or  no, 
and  the  Melvilles  have  got  their  ain  again,  as  the  song  says. 
And  if  any  one  tells  me  that  I  could  have  done  better  with  the 
money  I  will  not  gainsay  them,  for  there  are  wiser  heads  than 
mine  in  the  world  ;  but  I  will  say  that  I  had  the  right  to  do  what 
pleased  myself  with  what  belonged  to  me. 

"Many's  the  time  I  wish  that  I  had  an  intervener  that  would 
tell  him  of  it,  and  take  the  task  off  my  hands ;  for  I  am  sore 
afraid  that  did  I  do  it  myself,  having  little  skill  of  argument 
or  persuasion,  he  would  just  be  off  in  a  fluff,  and  no  more  to  be 
said.  For  that  matter,  1  might  be  content  with  things  as  they 
are,  knowing  that  his  father's  land  would  go  to  him  when  n>y 
earthly  pilgrimage  was  come  an  end;  but  sometimes  my  heart  is 
grieved  for  the  poor  lad,  when  I'm  thinking  that  maybe  he  is 
working  early  and  late,  and  worrying  himself  into  a  whey-faced 
condition,  to  secure  a  better  future  for  himself,  when  the  future 
is  sure  enough  if  he  only  kenned.  Besides  that,  I  jalouse 
there' is  a  possibility  of  his  going  away  again;  for  I  see  there  are 
bits  of  things,  that  he  put  together  on  the  day  when  you,  dear 
young  lady,  left  Allt-nam-ba,  that  he  has  not  unpacked  again; 
and  he  has  engaged  the  young  lad  Dairy  mple  at  a  permanent 
wage  now,  seeing  that  the  chiel  does  very  well  with  the  school- 
bairns — -though  I  envy  not  the  mother  that  had  to  keep  him  in 
porridge  when  he  was  a  laddie.  Now  that  is  how  we  are  situ- 
ate here,  my  dear  young  lady,  since  you  have  been  so  kind  as 
to  remember  us;  and  I  would  fain  be  asking  a  little  more  news 
about  yourself  if  it  was  not  making  bold,  for  many's  the  time  I 
have  wondered  whether  ye  would  come  back  again  to  Allt-nam- 
ba.  It  is  a  rough  place  for  gentle-nurtured  people,  and  but 
little  companionship  for  a  young  lady;  but  I  heard  tell  the 
shooting  was  good,  and  if  the  gentlemen  are  coming  back,  I  hope 
you'll  no  be  kept  away  by  the  roughness  of  the  place,  for  I'm 
sure  I  would  like  to  have  a  glint  of  your  face  again.  And  I 
would  say  my  thanks  for  the  collar  and  cuffs  in  that  beautiful  fine 
lace,  but  indeed  there  is  more  in  my  heart  than  the  tongue  can 


YOLANDE.  397 

speak.  It  is  just  too  good  of  ye;  and  although  such  things  are 
far  too  fine  for  an  old  woman  like  me,  still  Fin  thinking  I'll  ho 
putting  them  on  next  Sabbath  morning,  just  to  see  it'  Mr.  Mel- 
ville will  be  asking  if  I  have  taken  leave  of  rny  five  senses,  lint 
he  has  not  been  familiar  like  since  his  coming  back,  which  is  a, 
sorrow  to  me,  that  must  keep  my  tongue  tied  when  I  would  fain 
speak. 

"This  is  all  at  present,  dear  young  lady,  from  your  humble 
servant,  CHRISTINA  BELL." 

For  one  breathless  second  it  flashed  across  Yolande's  hrain 
that  she  would  become  the  "  intervener."  Would  it  not  be  a 
friendly  thing  to  do,  as  she  was  leaving  England,  to  write  and 
tell  him,  and  to  lay  an  injunction  on  him  not  to  disappoint  this 
kind  creature's  hopes?  But  then  she  turned  away.  The  past 
was  past.  Her  interests  and  duties  were  here.  And  so — with 
something  of  a  sigh,  perhaps — she  took  to  the  immediate  busi- 
ness of  getting  ready  for  the  journey ;  and  had  everything  so 
prepared  that  they  were  ready  to  start  at  a  moment's  notice, 
whenever  the  weather  was  propitious. 

And,  indeed,  they  had  fixed  definitely  the  day  of  their  de- 
parture, when,  on  the  very  night  before,  the  varying  northerly 
winds,  that  had  been  blowing  with  more  or  less  of  bitterness  for 
some  time,  culminated  in  a  gale.  It  was  an  unusual  quarter — 
most  of  the  gales  on  that  part  of  the  coast  coining  from  the  south 
and  the  southwest;  but  all  the  same  the  wind  during  the  night 
blew  with  the  force  of  a  hurricane,  and  the  whole  house  shook 
and  trembled.  Then,  in  the  morning,  what  was  their  astonish- 
ment to  find  the  sunlight  pouring  in  at  the  parlor  windows;  and 
outside,  the  world  white  and  hushed  under  a  sheet  of  dazzling 
snow!  That  is  to  say,  as  much  of  the  world  as  was  visible — 
the  pavement,  and  the  street,  and  the  promenade,  and  the 
beach ;  beyond  that  the  wind-ruffled  bosom  of  the  sea  was  dark 
and  sullen  in  comparison  with  this  brilliant  white  wonder  lying 
all  around.  And  still  the  northerly  gale  blew  hard;  and  one 
after  another  strangely  dark  clouds  were  blown  across  the  sky, 
until,  as  they  got  far  enough  to  the  south,  the  sun  would  shine 
through  them  wfth  a  strange  coppery  lustre,  and  then  would 
disappear  altogether,  and  the  dark  sea  would  become  almost 
black.  And  then  again  the  fierce  wind  would  hurry  on  the 
smoke-colored  pall  to  the  horizon;  and  there  would  be  glimpses 
of  a  pale  blue  sky  flecked  with  streaks  of  white;  and  the  brilliant 
suniio-ht  would  be  all  around  them  once  more,  on  the  boats  anil 
the  shingle  and  the  railings  and  the  snow-whitened  streets. 


398  YOLANDE. 

Now  Yolande' s  mother  was  strangely  excited  by  the  scene; 
for  it  confirmed  her  in  a  curious  fancy  she  had  formed  that  dur- 
ing all  the  time  she  had  been  under  the  influence  of  those  drugs 
she  had  been  living  in  a  dream,  and  that  she  was  now  making 
the  acquaintance  again  of  the  familiar  features  of  the  world  as  she 
once  had  known  them. 

"  It  seems  years  and  years  since  I  saw  the  snow,"  she  said, 
looking  on  the  shining  white  world  in  a  mild  entrancement  of 
delight,  "  Oh,  Yolande,  I  should  like  to  see  the  falling  snow — 1 
should  like  to  feel  it  on  my  hands." 

"You  are  likely  to  see  it  soon  enough,  mother,"  said  the 
girl,  who  had  noticed  how  from  time  to  time  the  thick  clouds 
going  over  shrouded  every  thing  in  an  ominous  gloom.  "  In  the 
mean  time  I  shall  go  round  after  breakfast  and  tell  Mr.  Wather- 
ston  not  to  send  the  carriage :  we  can't  start  in  a  snow-storm." 

"  But  why  not  send  Jane,  Yolande  ?  It  will  be  bitterly  cold 
outside." 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  no  colder  for  me  than  for  her,"  Yolande 
said.  And  then  she  added,  with  a  smile  of  confession,  "Be- 
sides, I  want  to  see  what  everything  looks  like." 

"Will  you  let  me  go  with  you?  May  I?"  said  the  mother, 
wistfully. 

"  You  ?  "  said  Yolande,  laughing.  "  Yes,  that  is  likely — that 
is  very  likely  !  You  are  in  good  condition  to  face  a  gale  from 
the  northeast,  and  walk  through  snow  at  the  same  time !" 

When  Yolande  went  out  she  found  it  was  bitterly  cold,  even 
though  the  terrace  of  houses  sheltered  her  from  the  northeast 
wind.  She  walked  quickly — and  even  with  a  kind  of  exhilara- 
tion, for  this  new  thing  in  the  world  was  a  kind  of  excitement; 
and  when  she  had  gone  and  delivered  her  message,  she  thought 
she  would  have  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  pier,  for  there 
the  snow  had  been  in  a  measure  swept  from  the  planks,  and 
there  was  freer  walking.  Moreover,  she  had  the  whole  prome- 
nade to  herself;  and  when  she  got  to  the  end  she  could  turn  to 
find  before  her  the  spectacle  of  the  long  line  of  coast  and  the 
hills  inland  all  whitened  with  the  snow,  while  around  her  the 
sullcn-hued  sea  seemed  to  shiver  under  the  gusts  of  wind  that 
swept  down  on  it.  Walking  back  was  not  so  comfortable  as 
walking  out;  nevertheless,  she  took  another  turn  or  two,  for  she 
knew  that  if  the  snow  began  to  fall  she  might  be  imprisoned  for 
the  day;  and  she  enjoyed  all  the  natural  delight  of  a  sound  c<>n 
stitution  in  brisk  exercise.  She  had  to  walk  smartly  to  withstand 
the  cold,  and  the  tight  against  the  wind  was  something;  alto- 
gether, she  remained  on  the  pier  longer  than  she  Irid  intended. 


YOLANDE.  399 

Then  something  touched  her  cheek,  and  stung  her,  as  it  were. 
She  turned  and  looked :  soft,  white  flakes — a  few  of  them  only, 
but  they  were  large — were  coining,  fluttering  along  and  past  her ; 
and  here  and  there  one  alighted  on  her  dress  like  a  moth,  and 
hung  there.  It  was  strange,  for  the  sunlight  was  shining  all 
around  her,  and  there  were  no  very  threatening  clouds  visible 
over  the  land.  But  they  grew  more  and  more  frequent;  they 
lit  on  her  hair,  and  she  shook  them  off ;  they  lit  on  her  eyelashes, 
and  melted  moist  and  cold  into  her  eyes;  at  length  they  had 
given  a  fairly  white  coating  to  the  front  of  the  dress,  and  so  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  make  for  home,  through  this  bewilderment 
of  snow  and  sunlight.  It  was  a  kind  of  fairy  thing,  as  yet,  and 
wonderful  and  beautiful ;  but  she  knew  very  well  that  as  soon 
as  the  clouds  had  drifted  over  far  enough  to  obscure  the  sun,  it 
would  look  much  less  wonderful  and  supernatural,  and  she 
would  merely  be  making  her  way  through  an  ordinary  and  some- 
what heavy  fall  of  snow. 

But  when  she  got  nearer  to  the  house  something  caught  her 
eye  there  that  filled  her  with  a  sudden  dismay.  Her  mother 
was  standing  in  the  balcony,  and  she  had  her  hands  outstretched 
as  if  she  were  taking  a  childish  delight  in  feeling  the  flakes  fall 
on  her  fingers;  and  when  she  saw  Yolande  she  waved  a  pleasant 
recognition  to  her.  Yolande — sick  at  heart  with  dread — hur- 
ried to  the  door ;  ran  upstairs  when  she  got  in,  and  rushed  to 
the  balcony.  She  was  breathless;  she  could  not  speak;  she 
could  only  seize  her  mother  by  the  arm,  and  drag  her  into  the 
room. 

"  Why,  what  is  it,  Yolande  ?"  the  mother  said.  "  I  saw  you 
coming  through  the  snow.  Isn't  it  beautiful — beautiful !  It 
looks  like  dreams  and  pictures  of  long  ago — I  have  not  felt  snow 
on  my  hands  and  my  hair  for  so  many  and  many  years — 

"  llow  could  you  be  so  imprudent,  mother !"  the  girl  said, 
when  she  had  got  breath.  "  And  without  a  shawl !  Where  was 
Jane  ?  To  stand  out  in  the  snow — " 

"It  was  only  for  a  minute,  Yolande,"  said  she,  while  the  girl 
was  dusting  the  snow  from  her  mother's  shoulders  and  arms  with 
her  pocket-handkerchief.  "It  was  only  a  minute — and  it  was 
so  strange  to  see  snow  again." 

"But  why  did  you  go  out? — why  did  you  go  out?"  the  girl 
repeated.  "  On  a  bitterly  cold  morning  like  this,  and  bare-headed 
and  bare-necked." 

"  Well,  yes,  it  is  cold  outside,"  she  said,  with  an  involuntary 
shiver.  "  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  so  cold.  There,  that  will 
do,  Yolanuc;  I  will  sit  down  by  the  fire,  and  get  warm  again." 


400  YOLANDE. 

"  What  you  ought  to  do  is  to  have  some  hot  brandy  and  water, 
and  go  to  bed,  and  have  extra  blankets  put  over  you,"  said  Yo- 
lande, promptly. 

"Oh  no;  I  shall  be  warm  again  directly,"  said  she,  though 
she  shivered  slightly,  as  she  got  into  the  easy-chair  by  the  fire, 
and  began  chafing  her  hands,  which  were  red  and  cold  with  the 
wet  snow.  "  It  was  too  much  of  a  temptation,  Yolande — that 
is  the  fact.  It  was  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  snow  again." 

"  It  was  more  like  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  bad  cold," 
said  Yolande,  sharply. 

However,  she  got  some  thick  shawls  and  put  them  round  her 
mother,  and  the  shivering  soon  ceased.  She  stirred  up  the  tire, 
and  brought  her  some  illustrated  papers,  and  then  went  away  to 
get  some  things  out  again  from  the  portmanteaus,  for  it  was 
clearly  no  use  thinking  of  travelling  in  this  weather.  It  had  set- 
tled down  to  snowing  heavily;  the  skies  were  dark;  there  was 
no  more  of  the  fairy -land  performance  of  the  morning;  and  so 
Yolande  set  about  making  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible 
within-doors,  leaving  their  future  movements  to  be  decided  by 
such  circumstances  as  should  arise. 

But  during  that  evening  Yolande's  mother  seemed  somewhat 
depressed,  and  also  a  little  bit  feverish  and  uncomfortable. 

"  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  were  going  to  have  a  very  bad 
cold,  mother,"  the  girl  said.  "  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  had 
caught  a  chill  by  going  out  on  the  balcony." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense,  child ;  it  was  only  for  a  minute  or 
so." 

"  I  wish  you  would  take  something  hot  before  going  to  bed, 
mother.  Port-wine  negus  is  good,  is  it  not?  I  do  not  know. 
I  have  only  heard.  Or  hot  whiskey  and  water?  Mr.  Short- 
lands  had  three  tumblers  of  it  after  he  fell  into  the  Uisgo-uar.- 
Sithean,  and  had  to  walk  the  long  distance  home  in  wet  clot  In -s ; 
and  the  rugs  and  shawls  we  had  put  on  his  bed — oh,  it  is  im- 
possible to  tell  the  number." 

"  No,  never  mind,  Yolande,"  the  mother  said.  "  I  would 
rather  not  have  any  of  these  things.  But  I  am  a  little  tired.  I 
think  I  will  go  to  bed  now;  and  perhaps  Jane  could  ask  for  an 
extra  blanket  for  me.  You  need  not  be  alarmed.  If  I  have 
caught  a  slight  cold — well,  you  say  we  ought  not  to  start  in 
such  weather  in  any  case." 

"Shall  I  come  and  read  to  you,  mother?" 

"•  Xo,  no;  why  should  you  trouble?  Besides,  I  am  rather 
tired;  most  likely  I  shall  go  to  sleep.  Now  I  will  lc;ivo  you  to 
your  novel  about  the  Riviera;  and  you  must  draw  in  your  chair 


YOLANDL.  401 

to  the  fire ;  .and  soon  you  will  have  forgotten  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  snow." 

And  so  they  bade  good-night  to  each  other,  and  Yolande  was 
not  seriously  disturbed. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

A    MEETING. 

BUT  next  morning  the  mother  was  ill — nay,  as  Yolande  in  her 
first  alarm  imagined,  seriously  ill.  She  could  hardly  speak  ;  her 
hands  and  forehead  were  hot  and  feverish ;  she  would  take  no- 
thing in  the  shape  of  breakfast ;  she  only  turned  away  her  head 
languidly.  Yolande  was  far  too  frightened  to  stay  to  consult 
her  mother's  nervous  fancies  or  dislikes ;  a  doctor  was  sent  for 
instantly — the  same  doctor,  in  fact,  who  had  been  called  in  be- 
fore. And  when  this  portly,  rubicund,  placid  person  arrived  his 
mere  presence  in  the  room  seemed  to  introduce  a  measure  of 
calm  into  the  atmosphere ;  and  that  was  well.  He  was  neither 
excited  nor  alarmed.  He  made  the  usual  examination,  asked  a 
few  questions,  and  gave  some  general  and  sufficiently  sensible 
directions  as  to  how  the  patient  should  be  tended.  And  then 
he  said  he  would  write  out  a  prescription — for  this  practitioner, 
in  common  with  most  of  his  kind,  had  retained  that  simple  and 
serene  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  drugs  which  has  survived  centuries 
of  conflicting  theories,  contradictions  in  fact,  and  scientific  doubt, 
and  which  is  perhaps  more  beneficial  than  otherwise  to  the  human 
race,  so  long  as  the  quantities  prescribed  are  so  small  as  to  do  no 
positive  harm.  It  was  aconite,  this  time,  that  he  chose  to  ex- 
periment with. 

However,  when  he  followed  Yolande  into  the  other  room,  in 
order  to  get  writing  materials,  and  when  he  sat  down  and  began 
to  talk  to  her,  it  was  clear  that  he  understood  the  nature  of  the 
case  well  enough;  and  he  plainly  intimated  to  her  that,  when  a 
severe  chill  like  this  had  caught  the  system  and  promised  to 
produce  a  high  state  of  fever,  the  result  depended  mainly  on 
the  power  of  the  constitution  to  repel  the  attack  and  light  its 
way  back  to  health. 

"  Now  I  suppose  I  may  speak  frankly  to  you,  Miss  Winter- 
bourne  ?"  said  he. 


402  YOLANDE. 

"  Oh  yes ;  why  not  ?"  said  Yolande,  who  was  far  too  anxious 
to  care  about  formalities. 

"You  must  remember,  then,  that  though  you  have  only  seen 
me  once  before,  I  have  seen  you  twice.  The  first  time  you  were 
insensible.  Now,"  said  he,  fixing  his  eyes  on  her,  "  on  that 
occasion  I  was  told  a  little,  but  I  guessed  more.  It  was  to 
frighten  your  mother  out  of  the  habit  that  you  took  your  first 
dose  of  that  patent  medicine.  May  I  assume  that?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Yolande,  with  downcast  eyes — though,  in- 
deed, there  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of. 

"  Now,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  honestly  whether  you  believe 
that  warning  had  effect." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Yolande,  looking  up,  and 
speaking  with  decision. 

"  You  think  that  since  then  she  has  not  had  recourse  to  any 
of  those  opiates?" 

"  I  am  positively  certain  of  it,"  Yolande  said  to  him. 

"  I  suppose  being  deprived  of  them  cost  the  poor  lady  a  strug- 
gle ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  once  or  twice — but  that  was  some  time  ago.  Latterly 
she  was  growing  ever  so  much  more  bright  and  cheerful,  btft 
still  she  was  weak,  and  I  was  hesitating  about  risking  the  long 
journey  to  the  south  of  France.  Yes,  it  is  I  that  am  to  blame. 
Why  did  I  not  go  sooner?  Why  did  I  not  go  sooner?''  she  re- 
peated, with  tears  coming  into  her  eyes. 

"  Indeed  you  can  not  blame  yourself,  Miss  Winterbourne,"  the 
doctor  said.  "  I  have  no  doubt  you  acted  for  the  best.  The 
imprudence  you  tell  me  of  might  have  happened  anywhere.  If 
you  keep  the  room  warm  and  equable,  your  mother  will  do  as 
well  here  as  in  the  south  of  France — until  it  is  safe  for  you  to 
remove  her." 

"But  how  soon,  doctor? — how  soon?  Oh,  when  I  get  the 
chance  again  I  will  not  wait." 

"  But  you  must  wait — and  you  must  be  patient,  and  careful. 
It  will  not  do  to  hurry  matters.  Your  mother  is  not  strong. 
The  fight  may  be  a  long  one.  Now,  Miss  Winterbourne,  you 
will  send  and  get  this  prescription  made  up;  and  I  will  call 
again  in  the  afternoon." 

Yolande  went  back  to  her  mother's  room,  and  sent  away 
Jane;  she  herself  would  be  nurse.  On  tiptoe  she  went  about, 
doing  what  she  thought  would  add  to  her  mother's  comfort ; 
noiselessly  tending  the  fire  that  had  been  lit,  arranging  a  shutter 
so  that  less  lio;ht  should  -come  in,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 
But  the  confidence  inspired  by  the  presence  of  the  doctor  was 


YOLANDE.  403 

gone  now ;  a  terrible  anxiety  had  succeeded ;  and  when  at  last  she 
sat  down  in  the  silent  room,  and  felt  that  she  could  do  nothing 
more,  a  sense  of  helplessness,  of  loneliness,  entirely  overcame 
her,  and  she  was  ready  to  despair.  Why  had  she  not  jjone 
away  sooner,  before  this  terrible  thing  happened  ?  Why  had  she 
delayed?  They  might  now  have  been  walking  happily  together 
along  some  sunny  promenade  in  the  South — instead  of  this — this 
hushed  and  darkened  room ;  and  the  poor  invalid,  whom  she 
had  tended  so  carefully,  and  who  seemed  to  be  emerging  into  a 
new  life  altogether,  thus  thrown  back  and  rendered  once  more 
helpless.  Why  had  she  gone  out  on  that  fatal  morning?  Why 
had  she  left  her  mother  alone  ?  If  she  had  been  in  the  room 
there  would  have  been  no  venturing  into  the  snow,  whatever 
dreams  and  fancies  were  calling.  If  she  had  but  taken  courage 
and  set  out  for  the  South  a  week  sooner — a- day  sooner — this 
would  not  have  happened ;  and  it  seemed  so  hard  that  when 
she  had  almost  secured  the  emancipation  of  her  mother — when 
the  undertaking  on  which  she  had  entered  with  so  much  of 
fear,  and  wonder,  and  hope  was  near  to  being  crowned  with 
success — the  work  should  be  undon-e  by  so  trifling  an  accident. 
She  was  like  to  despair. 

But  patience — patience — she  said  to  herself.  She  had  been 
warned,  before  she  had  left  Scotland,  that  it  was  no  light 
matter  that  lay  before  her.  If  she  was  thrown  back  into  prison, 
as  it  were,  at  this  moment,  the  door  would  be  opened  some  day. 
And,  indeed,  it  was  not  of  her  own  liberty  she  was  thinking — 
it  was  the  freedom  of  light  and  life  and  cheerfulness  that  she 
had  hoped  to  secure  for  this  stricken  and  hapless  creature 
whom  fortune  had  not  over-well  treated. 

Her  mother  stirred,  and  instantly  she  went  to  the  bedside. 

"What  does  the  doctor  say,  Yolande?"  she  asked,  appa- 
rently with  some  difficulty. 

"  Only  what  every  one  sees,"  she  said,  with  such  cheerfulness 
as  was  possible.  "  You  have  caught  a  bad  cold,  and  you  are 
feverish  ;  but  you  must  d  >  everything  that  we  want  you  to  do, 
and  you  will  fight  it  off  in  time." 

"  What  kind  of  day  is  it  outside  ?"  she  managed  to  ask 
again. 

"  It  is  fine,  but  cold.  There  has  been  some  more  snow  in  the 
night." 

"  If  you  wish  to  go  out,  go  out,  Yolande.     Don't  mind  me." 

"  But  I  am  going  to  mind  you,  mother,  and  nobody  else. 
Here  I  am,  here  I  stay,  till  you  are  well  again.  You  shall 
have  no  other  nurse." 


404  YOLANDE. 

"  You  will  make  yourself  ill,  Yolande.     You  must  go  out." 

She  was  evidently  speaking  with  great  difficulty. 

"  Hush,  mother,  hush  !"  the  girl  said  ;  "  I  am  going  to  stay 
with  you.  You  should  not  talk  any  more — it  pains  you,  does 
it  not  ?" 

"  A  little."  And  then  she  turned  away  her  head  again.  "  If 
I  don't  speak  to  you,  Yolande,  don't  think  it  is  unkind  of  me. 
I — I  am  not  very  well,  I  think." 

And  so  the  room  was  given  over  to  silence  again,  and  the 
girl  to  anxious  thoughts  as  to  the  future.  She  had  resolved  not 
to  write  to  her  father  until  she  should  know  more  definitely. 
She  would  not  unnecessarily  alarm  him.  At  first,  in  her  sudden 
alarm,  she  had  thought  of  summoning  him  at  once ;  but  now 
she  had  determined  to  wait  until  the  doctor  had  seen  her  mother 
again.  If  this -were  only  a  bad  cold,  arid  should  show  symp- 
toms of  disappearing,  then  she  could  send  him  a  re  assuring 
message.  At  present  she  was  far  too  upset,  and  anxious,  and 
disturbed  to  carefully  weigh  her  expressions. 

About  noon  Jane  stole  silently  into  the  room,  and  handed 
her  a  letter,  and  withdrew  again.  Yolande  was  startled  when 
she  glanced  at  the  handwriting,  and  hastily  opened  the  envelope. 
The  letter  came  from  Inverness,  and  was  dated  the  morning  of 
the  previous  day :  that  was  all  she  noted  carefully — the  rest 
seemed  to  swim  into  her  consciousness  all  at  once,  she  ran  her 
eye  over  the  successive  lines  so  rapidly,  and  with  such  a  breath- 
less agitation. 

"My  DEAR  YOLANDE,"  Jack  Melville  wrote, — "I  shall  reach, 
Worthing  just  about  the  same  time  as  this  letter.  I  am  coming 
to  ask  you  for  a  single  word.  Archie  Leslie  has  told  me — quite 
casually,  in  a  letter  about  other  things — that  you  are  no  longer 
engaged  to  him ;  and  I  have  dared  to  indulge  in  some  vague 
hopes — well,  it  is  for  you  to  tell  me  to  put  them  aside  forever, 
or  to  let  them  remain,  and  see  what  the  future  has  in  store. 
That  is  all.  I  don't  wish  to  interfere  with  your  duties  of  the 
moment — how  should  I  ? — but  I  can  not  rest  until  I  ascertain 
from  yourself  whether  or  no  I  may  look  forward  to  some  dis- 
tant time,  and  hope.  I  am  coming  on  the  chance  of  your  not 
having  left  Worthing.  Perhaps  you  may  not  have  left ;  and  I 
beg  of  your  kindness  to  let  me  see  you,  for  ever  so  short  a 
time." 

She  quickly  and  quietly  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it, 
Her  fuce  was  very  pale. 


YOLANDE.  405 

"Jane!" 

The  maid  was  standing  at  the  window,  looking  out;  she  im- 
mediately turned  and  came  to  her  mistress. 

"  You  remember  Mr.  Melville, who  used  to  come  to  the  lodge  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  miss." 

"  He  will  be  in  Worthing  to-day — he  will  call  here — perhaps 
soon — " 

She  paused  for  a  second,  in  this  breathless,  despairing  way  of 
talking,  as  if  not  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  lie  will  ask  to  see  me — well — you  will  tell  him  lean  not  seo 
him.  I  can  not  see  him.  My  mother  is  ill.  Tell  him  I  am 
sorry — but  I  can  not  see  him." 

"  Oh  yes,  miss,"  said  the  girl,  wondering  at  her  young  mis- 
tress's agitation. 

Then  Yolande  quietly  slipped  into  the  room  again — glancing 
at  her  mother,  to  see  whether  her  absence  had  been  noticed ;  and 
her  hand  was  clutching  the  letter,  and  her  heart  beating  violently. 
It  was  too  terrible  that  he  should  arrive  at  such  a  moment — 
amid  this  alarm  and  anxiety.  She  could  not  bear  the  thought 
of  meeting  him.  Already  she  experienced  a  sort  of  relief  that 
she  was  in  the  sick-room  again :  that  was  her  place ;  there  her 
duties  lay.  And  so  she  sat  in  the  still  and  darkened  room, 
listening  with  a  sort  of  dread  for  the  ring  at  the  bell  below ;  and 
then  picturing  to  herself  his  going  away ;  and  then  thinking  of 
the  years  to  come,  and  perhaps  his  meeting  her;  and  she  grew  to 
fancy  (while  some  tears  were  stealing  down  her  cheeks)  that  very 
likely  he  would  not  know  her  again  when  he  saw  her,  for  she 
knew  that  already  her  face  was  more  worn  than  it  used  to  be, 
and  the  expression  of  the  eyes  changed.  When  she  did  hear  the 
ring  at  the  bell  her  heart  leaped  as  if  she  had  been  shot ;  but  she 
breathed  more  freely  when  the  door  was  shut  again.  She  could 
imagine  him  walking  along  the  pavement.  Would  he  think  her 
unkind  \  Perhaps  he  would  understand  ?  At  all  events,  it  was 
better  that  he  was  gone;  it  was  a  relief  to  her;  and  she  went 
stealthily  to  the  bedside,  to  see  whether  her  mother  was  asleep ; 
and  now  all  her  anxiety  was  that  the  doctor  should  make  his 
appearance  soon,  and  give  her  some  words  of  cheer,  so  that  she 
should  have  no  need  to  write  to  her  father. 

This  was  what  happened  when  Melville  came  to  the  door.  To 
begin  with,  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  should  find  Yolande 
there,  for  he  had  heard  from  Mrs.  Bell  that  she  and  her  mother 
were  leaving  England.  But  when  Jane,  in  response  to  his  ring, 
ing  of  the  bell,  opened  the  door,  then  he  knew  that  they  were- 
not  gone. 


406  YOLANDE. 

"  Miss  Winterbourne  is  still  here,  then  ?"  lie  said,  quickly,  and 
indeed  with  some  appearance  of  anxiety  in  the  pale,  handsome 
face. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

He  paused  for  a  second. 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  ask  her  if  I  can  see  her  for  a 
moment?"  he  said,  at  length.  "She  knows  that  I  meant  to  call 
on  her." 

"  Please,  sir,  Miss  Winterbourne  told  me  to  say  that  she  was 
very  sorry,  but  that  she  can  not  see  you." 

He  seemed  as  one  stupefied  for  a  moment. 

"  Her  mother  is  HI,  sir,"  said  Jane. 

'*  Oh,"  he  said,  a  new  light  breaking  in  on  him — for  indeed 
that  first  blunt  refusal,  as  uttered  by  the  maid,  was  bewildering. 

"  Not  very  ill,  is  she  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Jane,  in  the  same  stolid  fashion,  "  I  think  she 
is  very  ill,  sir,  but  I  would  not  say  so  to  my  young  mistress, 
sir." 

"  Of  course  not — of  course  not,"  he  said,  absently ;  and  then 
he  suddenly  asked,  "  Has  Miss  Winterbourne  sent  for  her 
father?" 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  I  think  she  is  waiting  to  hear  what  the 
doctor  says." 

"  Who  is  the  doctor  ?" 

She  gave  him  both  the  name  and  address. 

*•  Thank  you,"  said  he.  "  I  will  not  trouble  Miss  Winterbourne 
with  any  message."  And  with  that  he  left. 

But  he  sent  her  a  message — some  half-hour  thereafter.  It 
was  merely  this : 

"  DEAR  YOLANDE, — I  am  deeply  grieved  to  have  intruded 
upon  you  at  such  a  time.  Forgive  me.  I  hope  to  hear  better 
news ;  but  do  not  you  trouble ;  I  have  made  arrangements  so  that 
I  shall  know.— J.  M." 

And  Yolande  put  that  note  with  the  other — for  in  truth  she 
had  carefully  preserved  every  scrap  of  writing  that  he  had  ever 
sent  her ;  and  it  was  with  a  wistful  kind  of  satisfaction  that  at 
least  he  had  gone  away  her  friend.  It  was  something — nay,  it 
was  enough.  If  all  that  she  wished  for  in  the  world  could  get 
so  near  to  completion  as  this,  then  she  would  ask  for  nothing 
more. 

The  doctor  did  not  arrive  till  nearly  three  o'clock,  and  she 
awaited  his  verdict  with  an  anxiety  amounting  to  distress.  But 


YOLANDE.  407 

he  would  say  nothing  definite.  The  fever  had  increased,  cer- 
tainly;  but  that  was  to  be  expected.  She  reported  to  him — as 
minuU'ly  as  lu-r  agitation  allowed — how  his  directions  had  been 
carried  out  in  the  interval,  and  he  approved.  Then  he  begged 
her  not  to  be  unduly  alarmed,  for  this  fever  was  the  common 
attendant  on  the  catching  of  a  sudden  chill ;  and  with  similar 
vague  words  of  re-assurance  he  left. 

But  the  moment  he  had  gone  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  her 
father.  Fortunately  Mr.  Wintcrbourne  happened  at  the  mo- 
ment to  be  in  London,  for  he  had  come  up  to  make  inquiries 
about  some  railway  project  that  his  constituents  wished  him  to 
oppose  next  session*  and  he  was  at  the  hotel  in  Arlington  Street 
that  Yolande  knew. 

"  DEAR  PAPA,"  she  said, — "  We  did  not  leave  yesterday  as 
I  said  we  should,  for  the  weather  was  so  severe  I  was  afraid  to 
take  the  risk.  And  now  another  thing  has  occurred :  my  dear 
mother  has  caught  a  very  bad  cold,  and  is  feverish  with  it,  so 
that  I  have  called  in  the  doctor.  I  hope  it  will  soon  go  away, 
and  we  will  be  able  to  make  the  voyage  that  was  contemplated. 
Alas  !  it  is  a  misfortune  that  there  was  any  delay.  Now,  dear 
papa,  you  said  that  you  were  anxious  to  be  of  service  to  us ;  and 
if  your  business  in  town  is  over,  could  you  spare  a  few  days  to 
come  and  stay  at  a  hotel  in  Worthing,  merely  that  I  may  know 
you  are  there,  which  will  re-assure  me,  for  I  am  nervous  and 
anxious,  and  probably  imagining  danger  when  there  is  none  ? 
As  for  your  coming  here — no,  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of ;  it 
would  agitate  my  dear  mother  beyond  expression,  and  now  more 
than  ever  we  have  to  secure  for  her  repose  and  quiet.  Will  it 
inconvenience  you  to  come  for  a  few  days  to  a  hotel  ?  Your 
loving  daughter,  YOLANDE  WINTERBOURNE." 

Mr.  Winterbourne  came  down  next  morning — rather  guessing 
that  the  matter  was  more  serious  than  the  girl  had  represented 
— and  went  straight  to  the  house.  He  sent  for  Jane,  and  got 
it  arranged  that,  while  she  took  Yolande's  place  in  the  sick- 
room for  a  few  minutes,  Yolande  should  come  down-stairs  and 
see  him  in  the  ground-floor  parlor,  which  was  unoccupied.  It  is 
to  be  remembered  that  he  had  not  seen  his  daughter  since  she 
left  the  Highlands. 

W^hen  Yolande  carne  into  the  room  his  eyes  lighted  up  with 
gladness ;  but  the  next  minute  they  were  dimmed  with  tears — 
and  the  hands  that  took  hers  were  trembling — and  he  could 
hardly  speak. 


408  YOLANDE. 

"  Child,  child,"  said  he,  in  a  second  or  so,  "  how  you  are 
changed !  You  are  not  well,  Yolande  :  have  you  been  ill  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  papa,  I  am  perfectly  well." 

The  strange  seriousness  of  her  face ! — where  was  the  lie;ht- 
hearted  child  whose  laugh  used  to  be  like  a  ray  of  sunlight? 
She  led  him  to  the  window;  and  she  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  so 
that  no  sound  should  carry: 

"  Papa,  I  want  you  to  call  on  the  doctor,  and  get  his  real 
opinion.  It  tortures  me  to  think  that  he  may  be  concealing 
something;  I  sit  and  imagine  it;  sometimes  I  think  he  has  not 
told  me  all  the  truth.  I  want  to  know  the  truth,  papa.  Will 
you  ask  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  child — I  will  do  whatever  you  want,"  said  he,  still 
holding  her  hand,  and  regarding  her  with  all  the  old  affection 
and  admiration.  "Ah,  your  face  is  changed  a  little,  Yolande, 
but  not  much,  not  much — oh  no,  not  much  ;  but  your  voice 
hasn't  changed  a  bit.  I  have  been  wondering  this  many  a  day 
when  I  should  hear  you  talking  to  me  again." 

"  Never  mind  about  me,  papa,"  said  she,  quickly.  "  I  will 
give  you  the  doctor's  address.  Which  hotel  are  you  staying 
at?" 

He  told  her  as  she  was  writing  the  doctor's  address  for  him 
on  a  card ;  and  then,  with  a  hurried  kiss,  she  was  away  again 
to  the  sick-room,  and  sending  Jane  down  to  open  the  door  for 
him. 

As  Yolande  had  desired,  he  went  and  saw  the  doctor,  who 
spoke  more  plainly  to  him  than  he  had  done  to  the  girl  of  the 
possible  danger  of  such  an  attack,  but  also  said  that  nothing 
could  be  definitely  predicted  as  yet.  It  was  a  question  of  the 
strength  of  the  constitution.  Mr.  Wintcrbourne  told  him  frank- 
ly who  he  was,  what  his  position  was,  and  the  whole  sad  story; 
and  the  doctor  perfectly  agreed  with  Yolande  that  it  was  most 
unadvisable  to  risk  the  agitation  likely  to  be  produced  if  the 
poor  woman  were  to  be  confronted  with  her  husband.  Any 
messages  he  might  wish  to  send  (in  the  event  of  her  becoming 
worse)  could  be  taken  to  her;  they  might  give  her  some  mental 
rest  and  solace  ;  but  for  the  present  the  knowledge  of  his  being 
in  Worthing  was  to  be  kept  from  her.  And  to  this  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne  agreed,  though  he  would  fain  have  seen  a  little  more 
of  Yolande.  Many  a  time — indeed,  every  day — he  walked  up 
and  down  the  promenade,  despite  the  coldness  of  the  weal  her, 
and  ahvays  with  the  hope  that  he  might  catch  some  glint  of  her 
at  the  window,  should  she  come  for  a  moment  to  look  ;;t  the 
outer  world  and  the  wide  sea.  Once  or  twice  he  did  so  catch 


YOLAA'DE.  409 

sight  of  her,  and  the  day  was  brighter  after  that.     It  was  like  a 
lover. 

As  the  days  passed  the  fever  seemed  to  abate  somewhat,  but 
an  alarming  prostration  supervene  1  At  length  the  doctor  said, 
on  one  occasion  when  Mr.  Winterbourne  had  called  on  him  for 
news, 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  if  you  have  no  objection,  I  should 
like  to  have  a  consultation  on  this  case.  I  am  afraid  there  is 
some  complication." 

"  I  hope  you  will  have  the  best  skill  that  London  can  afford,"  ' 
said   Mr.    Winterbourne,  anxiously;    for   although  the    doctor 
rather  avoided  looking  him  in  the  face,  the  sound  of  this  phrase 
was  ominous. 

u  Shall  I  ask  Sir to  come  down  ?"  he  said,  naming  one  of 

the  most  famous  London  physicians. 

"  By  all  means !  And,  whatever  you  do,  don't  alarm  my 
daughter ! — try  to  keep  her  mind  at  rest — say  it  is  a  technical 
point — say  anything — but  don't  frighten  her." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  the  doctor  promised ;  and  he  added,  "  I 
will  say  this  for  the  young  lady,  that  she  has  shown  a  devotion 
and  a  fortitude  that  I  have  never  seen  equalled  in  any  sick-room, 
and  I  have  been  in  practice  now  for  two-and-thirty  years." 

But  all  the  skill  in  London  or  anywhere  else  could  not  have 
saved  this  poor  victim  from  the  fatal  consequences  of  a  few 
moments'  thoughtlessness.  The  wasted  and  enfeebled  constitu- 
tion had  succumbed.  But  her  brain  remained  clear ;  and  as  long 
as  she  could  hold  Yolande's  hand,  or  even  see  the  girl  walking 
about  the  room  or  seated  in  a  chair,  she  was  content. 

"  I  don't  mind  dying  now,"  she  said,  or  rather  whispered,  on 
one  occasion.  "I  have  seen  you,  and  known  you;  you  have 
been  with  me  for  a  while.  It  was  like  an  angel  that  you  came 
to  me ;  it  was  an  angel  who  sent  you  to  me.  I  am  ready  to  go 
now." 

"  Mother,  you  must  not  talk  like  that !"  the  girl  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  the  nonsense  of  it !  How  long,  then,  do  you  expect  me 
to  be  kept  waiting  for  you,  before  we  can  start  for  Bordighera 
together  ?" 

"  We  shall  never  be  at  Bordighera  together,"  the  mother  said, 
absently — "  never  !  never !  But  you  may  be,  Yolaiyle ;  and  I 
hope  you  will  be  happy  there,  and  always ;  for  you  deserve  to  be. 
Ah  yes,  you  will  be  happy — surely  it  can  not  be  otherwise — you, 
so  beautiful  and  so  noble-hearted." 

And  at  last  Yolande  grew  to  fear  the   worst     One  evening 


410  YOLANDE. 

she  had  sent  for  her  father ;  and  she  went  down-stairs  and  found 
him  in  the  sitting-room. 

"  Yolande,  you  are  as  white  as  a  ghost." 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  keeping  a  tight  guard  over  herself,  "  I  want 
you  to  come  up-stairs  with  me.  I  have  told  my  mother  you 
were  coming.  She  will  see  you;  she  is  grateful  to  you  for  the 
kind  messages  I  have  taken  to  her.  I — I  have  not  asked  the 
doctors — but — I  wish  you  to  come  with  me.  Do  not  speak  to 
her — it  is  only  to  see  you  that  she  wants." 

He  followed  her  up  the  stairs ;  but  he  entered  first  into  the 
room,  and  he  went  over  to  the  bedside  and  took  his  wife's  hand, 
without  a  word.  The  memories  of  a  lifetime  were  before  him 
as  he  regarded  the  emaciated  cheek  and  the  strangely  large  and 
brilliant  eyes ;  but  all  the  bitterness  was  over  and  gone  now. 

"  George,"  said  she,  "  I  wished  to  make  sure  you  had  forgiven 
me,  and  to  say  good-by.  You  have  been  mother  as  well  as 
father  to  Yolande — she  loves  you —  You — you  will  take  care 
of  her." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  the  effort  to  speak  had  overcome 
hev;  but  he  still  held  his  wife's  hand  in  his;  and  perhaps  ho  was 
thinking  of  what  had  been,  and  of  what — far  otherwise — might 
have  been. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

ROME. 

IT  was  in  the  month  of  January  following,  when  the  white 
thoroughfares  of  Rome  were  all  shining  clear  in  the  morning 
sunlight,  that  Yolande  Winterboume  stood  in  the  spacious  vesti- 
bule of  the  Hotel  du  Quirinal,  waiting  while  her  father  read  a 
letter  that  had  just  been  given  him.  She  was  dressed  in 
deep  mourning;  and  perhaps  that  only  heightened  the  contrast 
between  the  clearness  and  brightness  of  her  English-looking  com. 
plexion  and  ruddy  golden  hair  and  the  sallow,  foreign-looking 
faces  around.  And  if  the  ordeal  through  which  she  had  passed 
had  altered  her  expression  somewhat — if  it  had  robbed  her  for- 
ever of  the  light  laughter  and  the  carelessness  of  her  girlhood — 
it  had  left  in  their  stead  a  sweet  seriousness  of  womanhood  that 
some  people  found  lovable  enough.  It  was  not  her  father  only 
who  saw  and  was  charmed  by  this  grave  gentleness  of  look,  as 


YOLANDE.  411 

an  odd  incident  in  this  very  hotel  proved.  At  the  time  of  the 
Winterbournas'  arrival  in  Rome  there  happened  to  bo  there — 
and  also  staying  at  the  Quirinal  llotel — a  famous  l-'n-ncli 
painter.  Of  course  every  one  in  the  hotel  knew  who  he  was,  and 
every  one  pretended  not  to  know,  for  he  seemed  to  wish  to  be 
alone;  and  he  was  so  hard  at  work,  that  when  he  came  in  for 
his  mid-day  meal — which  was  of  the  most  frugal  kind — he 
rarely  spent  more  than  ten  or  twelve  minutes  over  it,  and  then 
he  was  off  again,  only  pausing  to  light  a  cigarette  in  the  corridor. 
Well,  one  day  the  Wintcrbournes  went  as  usual  into  the  win- 
ter-garden saloon  of  the  hotel  to  have  a  bit  of  lunch,  for  they 
were  going  for  a  drive  somewhere  in  the  afternoon,  and  they 
were  just  about  to  sit  down  at  their  accustomed  table,  when  the 
famous  artist  rose  from  his  table  and  approached  them.  He 
was  a  little  man,  with  a  boyish  face,  but  with  careworn  eyes ; 
his  manner  was  grave,  and  yet  pleasant. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  the  liberty ;  but  may  I  present  myself  to 
yon  ?"  said  he,  in  the  queerest  of  pronunciations — and  he  held  a 
card  between  his  finger  and  thumb. 

"You  do  me  a  great  honor,  monsieur,"  said  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne,  with  a  low  bow,  and  addressing  him  in  his  own  tongue ; 

and  he  managed  dexterously  to  hint  that  Monsieur had  no 

need  of  a  visiting-card  with  which  to  introduce  himself. 

Mea:  while  Yolande  had  turned  aside,  under  pretence  of  tak- 
ing off  her  bonnet;  and  the  great  artist,  without  any  circumlo- 
cution, told  her  father  what  was  the  object  of  his  thus  desiring 
to  make  their  acquaintance.  He  was  painting  a  religious  sub- 
ject, he  said,  which  had  great  difficulties  for  him.  He  had  ob- 
served mademoiselle  from  time  to  time.  She  had  so  noble  an 
air,  an  expression  so  tender,  so  Madonna-like!  All  that  he 
wanted,  if  the  father  would  grant  the  request,  was  to  be  permit- 
ted to  sit  at  their  table  for  a  few  minutes — to  observe  more 
closely,  to  find  out  what  was  the  peculiar  charm  of  expression. 
Would  monsieur  forgive  a  painter,  who  could  only  plead  that  it 
was  in  the  interest  of  his  art  that  he  made  so  bold  a  request? 

Mr.  Winterbourne  not  only  gladly  assented,  but  was  greatly 
flattered  to  hear  such  praise  of  Yolande  from  so  distinguished 
a  man ;  and  so  she  was  immediately  summoned,  and  introduced, 
and  they  all  three  sat  down  to  the  little  table,  and  had  their 
lunch  together.  Yolande  was  in  happy  ignorance  that  she  was 
being  studied  or  examined  in  any  way  whatever;  and  he  took 
good  care  not  to  let  her  know.  This  little,  sad-eyed  man 
proved  a  cheerful  enough  companion.  He  talked  about  any- 
thing and  evcrvthino-;  and  on  one  occasion  Yolande  had  the 


412  YOLANDE. 

happiness  of  being  able  to  add  to  his  knowledge.  He  was  say- 
ing how  the  realistic  decorations  on  the  walls  of  this  saloon — 
the  blue  skies,  the  crystal  globes  filled  with  swimming  fish  and 
suspended  in  mid-air,  the  painted  balconies,  and  shrubs,  and 
what  not — would  shock  the  severe  theorists  who  maintain  that 
in  decoration  natural  objects  should  be  represented  only  in  a 
conventional  manner;  aud  he  was  saying  that  nevertheless  this 
literal  copying  of  things  for  the  purposes  of  decoration  had  a 
respectable  antiquity — as  doubtless  mademoiselle  had  observed 
in  the  houses  of  Pompeii,  where  all  kinds  of  tricks  in  perspec- 
tive appeared  on  flat  surfaces — and  that  it  had  a  respectable 
authority — as  doubtless  mademoiselle  had  observed  in  the  Log- 
gie,  where  Raphael  had  painted  birds,  beasts,  or  fishes,  anything 
that  came  ready  to  his  hand  or  his  head,  as  faithfully  and 
minutely  as  drawing  and  color  could  reproduce  them. 

"  I  saw  another  thing  than  that  at  Pompeii,"  said  she,  with  a 
slight  smile. 

"Yes?"  he  said;  and  she  did  not  know  that  all  the  time  he 
was  regarding  the  beautiful  curve  of  the  short  upper  lip,  and 
observing  how  easily  the  slight  pensive  droop  of  it  could  be 
modulated  into  a  more  cheerful  expression. 

"  I  had  always  imagined,"  said  she,  "  that  veneering  and 
wickedness  like  that  were  quite  modern  inventions.  Don't  they 
say  so  ?  Don't  they  say  that  it  is  modern  depravity  that  paints 
common  wood  to  make  it  like  oak,  and  paints  plaster  to  re- 
semble marble  ?  But  in  Pompeii  you  will  also  find  that  wicked- 
ness— yes,  I  assure  you,  I  found  in  more  than  one  house  beau- 
tiful black  marble  with  yellow  or  white  veins— so  like  real 
marble  that  one  would  not  suspect — but  if  you  examined  it 
where  it  was  broken  you  would  find  it  was  only  plaster,  or  a 
soft  gray  stone,  painted  over." 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,"  said  he,  laughing,  «*  they  were  a 
wicked  people  who  lived  in  Pompeii ;  but  I  did  not  know  they 
did  anything  so  dreadful  as  that." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  an  acquaintanceship  that  lasted 
during  their  stay  in~Rome,  but  was  limited  to  this  brief  chat  in 
the  middle  of  the  day ;  for  the  famous  Frenchman  was  the 
most  devoted  of  workers.  And  then,  when  he  heard  that  the 
Winterbournes  were  likely  to  leave  Rome,  he  besought  the 
father  to  allow  Yolande  to  give  two  or  three  sittings  to  a  young 
American  artist,  a  friend  of  his,  who  was  clever  at  pastels,  and 
had  a  happy  knack  in  catching  a  likeness.  As  it  turned  out 
that  Monsieur did  not  wish  merely  to  procure  a  com  mis- 
sion for  his  brother-  artist,  but  wanted  to  have  the  sketch  of 


YOLAXDE.  413 

the  beautiful  young  English  lady  for  himself,  Mr.  Winterbourne 
h.'-itated,  but  Yolande.  volunteered  at  once,  and  cheerfully;  for 
they  had  already  visited  the  young  American's  studio,  and  Keen 
allowed  to  hunt  through  his  very  considerable  collection  of 
bric-a-brac — Eastern  costumes,  old  armor,  musical  instruments, 
Moorish  tiles,  and  the  like.  It  was  an  amusement  added  to  the 
occupations  of  the  day.  Besides,  there  was  one  of  the  must, 
picturesque  views  in  Rome  from  the  windows  of  that  lofty  irar- 
ret.  And  so  Yolande  sat  contentedly,  trying  the  strings  of  thU 
or  that  fifteenth-century  lute,  while  the  young  American  was 
working  away  with  his  colored  chalks;  and  Mr.  Winterbourne, 
having  by  accident  discovered  the  existence,  hitherto  unsuspect- 
ed, of  a  curious  stiletto  in  the  hollow  handle  of  a  Persian  war- 
axe,  now  found  an  additional  interest  in  rummaging  among 
the  old  weapons  which  lay  or  hung  everywhere  about  the 
studio. 

And  so  we  come  back  to  the  morning  on  which  Yolande  was 
standing  at  the  entrance  to  the  hotel,  waiting  for  her  father  to 
read  his  letter.  When  he  had  ended  he  came  along  briskly  to 
her,  and  put  his  arm  within  hers. 

"Now,  Yolande,"  said  he,  "do  you  think  Mr.  Meteyard 
could  get  that  portrait  of  you  finished  off  to-day  ?  Bless  my 
soul,  it  wasn't  to  have  been  a  portrait  at  all ! — it  was  only  to 
have  been  a  sketch.  And  he  has  kept  on  niggling  and  nig- 
gling away  at  it — why  ?  Well,  I  don't  know  why — unless — " 

But  he  did  not  utter  the  suspicion  that  had  crossed  his  mind 
once  or  twice.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Meteyard  did  not 
particularly  want  to  finish  the  sketch,  but  would  rather  have  the 
young  English  lady  continue  her  visits  to  his  studio — where  he 
always  had  a  little  nosegay  of  the  choicest  flowers  awaiting 
her. 

"What  is  the  hurry,  papa?"  she  said,  lightly. 

"  Well,  here  is  a  letter  from  Shortlands.  He  has  just  started 
for  Venice.  If  we  arc  to  meet  him  there  we  should  start  to- 
morrow for  Florence.  There  isn't  much  time  left  now  before 
the  opening  of  Parliament." 

"  Then  let  us  start  to-morrow  morning,"  said,  she,  promptly, 
"  even  if  I  have  to  sit  the  whole  day  to  Mr.  Meteyard.  But  I 
think  this  is  the  only  time  we  have  ever  been  in  Rome  without 
having  driven  out  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  that  the  Baths  of  Caracalla 
vrill  last  until  our  next  visit.  So  come  away,  Yolande,  and  let's 
hurry  up  Mr.  Meteyard — '  yank  him  along,'  I  believe,  is  the 
proper  phrase." 


414  YOLANDE. 

So  they  went  out  together  into  the  clear  white  sunlight. 

"  And  here,"  said  he,  discontentedly,  as  they  were  going 
along  the  street  of  the  Quattro  Fontane,  "is  Shortlands  ap- 
pointing to  meet  us  in  Venice  at  the Hotel.  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  the Hotel ;  not  a  bit  of  it !" 

"  Why,  papa,  you  know  that  is  where  Desdemona  was  buried !" 
she  exclaimed. 

**  Don't  I  know  !"  said  he,  with  a  gloomy  sarcasm.  "  Can 
you  be  three  minutes  in  the  place  without  being  perfectly  con- 
vinced of  the  fact  ?  Oh  yes,  she  was  buried  there,  no  doubt 
But  there  was  a  little  too  much  of  the  lady  the  last  time  we 
were  there." 

"  Papa,  how  can  you  say  that !"  she  remonstrated.  "  It  is  no 
worse  than  the  other  ones.  And  the  parapet  along  the  CanaJ 
is  so  nice." 

"  I  am  going  t  o  Danieli's,''  he  said,  doggedly. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  get  the  same  rooms  we  used  to  have,  with 
the  balcony,"  said  she ;  "  and  then  we  shall  see  whether  the 
pigeons  have  forgotten  all  I  taught  them.  Do  you  remember 
how  cunning  they  became  in  opening  the  paper-bags — and  in 
searching  for  them  all  about  the  room  ?  Then  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  we  were  to  see  Mr.  Leslie  at  Venice.  In  the  last  note 
I  had  from  him  he  said  they  were  going  there;  but  he  seemed 
dissatisfied  with  his  companion,  and  I  do  not  know  whether 
they  are  still  together." 

"  Would  you  like  to  meet  the  Master  at  Venice  ?"  said  he, 
regarding  her.  . 

A  trifle  of  color  appeared  in  her  cheeks,  but  she  answered, 
cheerfully, 

"  Oh  yes,  very  much.  It  would  be  like  a  party  of  old  times 
— Mr.  Shortlands,  and  he,  and  ourselves,  all  together." 

"  Shortlands  has  some  wonderful  project  on  hand — so  lie 
hints — but  he  does  not  say  what  it  is.  But  we  must  not  rt- 
tempt  too  much.  I  am  afraid  you  and  I  are  very  lazy  and  idlu 
travellers,  Yolande." 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  papa." 

"  At  all  events,"  said  he,  as  they  were  going  down  the  steps 
of  the  Piazza  di  Spagna — which  are  no  longer,  alas  !  adorned 
by  picturesque  groups  of  artists'  models — "  at  all  events,  I  must 
be  back  at  the  beginning  of  the  session.  They  say  the  Queen 
is  i^oing  to  open  Parliament  in  person  this  year.  Now,  there 
would  be  a  sight  for  you  !  That  is  a  spectacle  worth  going  to 
see." 

41  Ah  !"  she  said,  with  a  quick  interest,  "  am  I  to  be  allowed 


YOLANDE.  415 

to  go  to  the  House  of  Commons  after  all  ?  Shall  I  hear  you 
make  a  speech?  Shall  I  be  in  the  grill — is  it  the  grill  they  rail 
it?" 

"  No,  no,  you  don't  understand,  Yolande !"  said  he.  "  It  is  the 
ceremony  of  opening  Parliament.  It  is  in  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
and  the  Queen  is  in  her  robes;  and  everybody  you  ever  heard 
of  in  England  is  there — all  in  grand  state.  I  should  get  you  a 
ticket,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  if  I  failed  at  the  ballot;  I  heard 
that  one  was  sold  for  £40  the  last  time — but  maybe  that  was 

romance.  But  I  remember  this  for  fact,  that  when  Lord 

returned  from  abroad,  and  found  every  available  ticket  disposed 
of,  and  couldn't  get  one  anyhow,  he  was  in  a  desperate  state  be- 
cause his  wife  insisted  on  seeing  the  show ;  and  when  he  went 
to  an  official,  and  said  that,  no  matter  how,  Lady  -  -  must 
and  should  be  admitted,  that  blunt-spoken  person  told  him  that 
he  might  as  well  try  to  get  her  ladyship  into  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven.  But  we'll  manage  it  for  you,  Yolande.  We'll  take 
it  in  time.  And  if  we  can't  secure  it  any  other  way,  we'll  get 
you  into  the  Reporters'  Gallery,  as  the  representative  of  a  ladies' 
newspaper. " 

AY  hen  they  had  climbed  up  to  the  altitudes  of  the  young 
artist's  studio,  which  was  situated  in  one  of  the  narrowest 
streets  between  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  and  the  Corso,  they  found 
Mr.  Meteyard  rather  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  their  leaving 
Rome  so  soon.  It  was  not  entirely  a  question  of  finishing  the 
portrait.  Oh  yes,  he  said,  he  could  get  the  sketch  finished  well 
enough — that  is,  as  well  as  he  was  likely  to  be  able  to  do  it. 
But  he  had  no  idea  that  Mr.  and  Miss  Winterbourne  were  going 
away  so  soon.  Would  they  dine  with  him  at  his  hotel  that 
evening?  He  was  coming  to  England  soon;  might  he  call  and 
see  them  ?  And  would  Mr.  Winterbourne  take  with  him  that 
Persian  axe  in  the  handle  of  which,  he  had  discovered  the 
stiletto?  And  would  Miss  Winterbourne  allow  him  to  paint  for 
her  a  replica  of  a  study  of  a  Roman  girl's  head  that  she  seemed 
rather  to  like,  and  he  would  have  it  forwarded  to  England,  and 
be  very  proud  if  she  would  accept  it  ? 

Alas  !  alas  !  this  youth  had  been  dreaming  dreams ;  and  no 
doubt  that  was  the  reason  of  his  having  dawdled  so  long  over  a 
mere  sketch  in  crayons.  But  he  was  not  wounded  unto  death. 
It  is  true,  he  covered  himself  with  reproaches  over  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  the  portrait — although  it  was  very  cleverly  done  and 
an  inconte^tably  good  likeness;  and  he  gave  them  at  his 
hotel  that  evening  a  banquet  considerably  beyond  what  a  young 
painter  is  ordinarily  supposed  to  be  able  to  afford ;  and  the 


416  YOLANDE. 

next  morning,  although  the  train  for  Florence  leaves  early,  there 
he  was,  with  such  a  beautiful  bouquet  for  the  young  lady ! 
And  he  had  brought  her  eau-de-Cologne,  too,  for  the  journey, 
and  fruit,  and  sweets  (all  this  was  ostensibly  because  he  was 
grateful  to  her  for  having  allowed  him  to  make  a  sketch  of  her 
for  his  friend  the  famous  French  painter) ;  and  when  at  lasttho 
train  went  away  out  of  the  station  he  looked  after  it  sadly 
enough.  But  he  was  not  inconsolable,  as  events  proved;  for 
within  three  months  of  this  sad  parting  he  had  married  a  rather 
middle-aged  contessa,  who  had  estates  near  Terracina,  and  a 
family  of  four  daughters  by  a  former  husband ;  and  when  the 
Winterbournes  next  saw  him  he  was  travelling  en  gar f  on  through 
the  Southern  English  counties,  along  with  two  Scotch  artists, 
who  also — in  order  that  nothing  should  interfere  with  their  im- 
passioned study  of  Nature — had  left  their  wives  behind  them. 


CHAPTER   L. 

VENICE. 

JOHN  SHORTLANDS,  however,  was  delayed  by  some  business 
in  Paris,  and  the  Winterbournes  arrived  in  Venice  first.  They 
went  to  Danieli's,  and  secured  the  rooms  which  were  familiar  to 
them  in  former  days.  But  Yolande  found  that  the  pigeons  had 
forgotten  all  she  had  ever  taught  them  ;  and  she  had  to  begin 
again  at  the  beginning — coaxing  them  first  by  sprinkling  maize 
on  the  balustrade  of  the  balcony ;  then  inveigling  them  down 
into  the  balcony  itself ;  then  leaving  the  large  windows  open, 
and  enticing  them  into  the  room ;  and,  finally,  educating  them 
so  that  they  would  peck  at  any  half-folded  packet  they  found 
on  the  stone  floor,  and  get  at  the  grain  inside.  The  weather 
happened  to  be  fine,  and  father  and  daughter  contentedly  sot 
about  their  water-pilgrimages  through  the  wonderful  and  strange 
city  that  never  seems  to  lose  its  interest  and  chaim  for  even 
those  who  know  it  most  familiarly,  while  it  is  the  one  thing  in 
the  world  that  is  safe  never  to  disappoint  the  new-comer,  if  he 
has  an  imagination  superior  to  that  of  a  hedgehog.  There  were 
several  of  Mr.  Winterbonrne's  parliamentary  friends  in  Venice 
at  this  time,  and  Yolande  was  very  eager  to  make  their 
acquaintance;  for  now,  with  the  prospect  before  her  of  bei..:; 
allowed  to  go  down  occasionally  r.nd  listen  to  the  debates, 


YOLANDE.  417 

she  wished  to  become  as  familiar  as  was  possible  with  the 
personnel  of  the  House.  She  could  not  honestly  say  that 
these  legislators  impressed  her  as  being  persons  of  extraordinary 
intellectual  force,  but  they  were  pleasant  enough  companions. 
Some  of  them  had  a  vein  of  facetiousness,  while  all  of  them 
showed  a  deep  interest — and  even  sometimes  a  hot-headed 
partisanship — when  the  subject  of  cookery  and  the  various 
tables  d'h6te  happened  to  come  forward. 

Then,  one  night  when  they  had,  as  usual  after  dinner,  gore 
round  in  their  gondola  to  the  hotel  where  Mr.  Shortlands  was 
expected,  they  found  that  that  bulky  North-countryman  had 
arrived,  and  was  now  in  the  saloon,  quite  by  himself,  and 
engaged  in  attacking  a  substantial  supper.  A  solid  beefsteak 
and  a  large  bottle  of  Bass  did  not  seem  quite  in  consonance 
with  a  moonlight  night  in  Venice;  but  John  Shortlands  held 
to  the  "coelum,  non  animum"  theory:  and  when  he  could  get 
Dalcscroft  fare,  in  Venice  or  anywhere  else,  he  preferred  that 
to  any  other.  He  received  the  Winterbournes  with  great  cor- 
diality; and  instantly  they  began  a  discussion  of  their  plans 
for  filling  in  the  time  before  the  opening  of  Parliament. 

"  But  what  is  the  great  project  you  were  so  mysterious  about  ?" 
Mr.  Wintcrbourne  asked. 

"Ay,  there's  something,  now,"  said  he,  pouring  out  another 
tumblerful  of  the  clear  amber  fluid.  "There's  something  worth 
talking  about.  I've  taken  a  moor  in  Scotland  for  this  next 
season ;  and  Yolandc  and  you  are  to  be  my  guests.  Tit  for 
tat's  fair  play.  I  got  it  settled  just  before  I  left  London." 

"  Whereabouts  is  it?"  Mr.  Winterbourne  asked  again. 

"  Well,  when  it's  at  home  they  call  it  Allt-nam-ba." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  taken  Allt-nam-ba  for  this 
year?" 

"  But  indeed  I  have.  Tit  for  tat's  fair  play;  and,  although 
the  house  won't  be  as  well  managed  as  it  was  last  year — for  \\  e 
can't  expect  everything — still,  I  hope  we'll  have  as  pleasant  a 
time  of  it.  Ay,  my  lass,"  said  he,  regarding  Yolandc,  u  \  ou 
look  as  if  a  breath  of  mountain  air  would  do  ye  some  good — 
better  than  wandering  about  foreign  towns,  I'll  be  bound." 

Yolande  did  not  answer ;  nor  did  she  express  any  gratitude 
for  so  kind  an  invitation ;  nor  any  gladness  at  the  thought  of 
returning  to  that  home  in  the  far  mountain  wilderness.  She 
sat  silent — perhaps  also  a  trifle  paler  than  usual — while  the  two 
men  discussed  the  prospects  of  the  coming  season. 

"  I'll  have  to  send  Edwards  and  some  ef  them  up  from 
Dalescroft;  though  where  they  are  to  get  beds  for  themselves 


418  YOLANDE. 

T   can't   imagine,"  John   Shortlands   said.     "  Won't    my    fine 

funtieman  turn  Tip  bis  nose  if  lie  Las  to  take  a  room  in  the 
othy!  By-tLe-way,  my  neighbor  Walkley — you  remember 
Lira,  Winterbourne,  don't  ye? — bas  one  o' those  portable  zinc 
Louses  that  he  bought  some  two  or  three  years  ago  when  he 
leased  a  salmon-river  in  Sutherlandshire.  I  know  he  hasn't 
used  it  since,  and  I  dare  say  he'd  lend  it  to  me.  It  could  easily 
be  put  up  behind  the  lodge  at  Allt-nam-ba;  and  then  they'd 
have  no  excuse  for  grumbling  and  growling." 

"  But  wLy  should  you  send  up  a  lot  of  English  servants,  who 
don't  know  what  roughing  it  in  a  small  shooting-box  3s  like?'' 
said  Mr.  Winterbourne.  "Why  should  you  bother?  We  did 
very  well  last  year,  didn't  we?  AVhy  shouldn't  you  have  exactly 
the  same  people — and  here  is  Yolande,  who  can  set  the  machine 
going  again — " 

"There  you've  exactly  Lit  it,"  said  Shortlands.  "For  that  is 
precisely  what  Yolande  is  not  going  to  do,  and  not  going  to  be 
allowed  to  do.  It's  all  very  well  for  an  inhuman  father  to  let 
his  daughter  slave  away  at  grocers'  accounts.  My  guest  is  going 
to  be  my  guest,  and  must  have  a  clear,  full  holiday  as  well  as 
any  of  us.  I  don't  say  that  slic  didn't  do  it  very  well — for  I 
never  saw  a  Louse  better  managed — everything  punctual — every- 
thing well  done — no  breaking  down — just  what  you  wanted 
always  to  your  hand;  but  I  say  that,  this  year,  she  must  have 
her  holiday  like  the  rest.  Perhaps  she  needs  it  more  than  any 
of  us,"  he  added,  almost  to  himself. 

It  was  strange  that  Yolande  made  no  offer — however  formal 
— of  her  services,  and  did  not  even  thank  him  for  his  considera- 
tion. No;  she  sat  mute,  her  eyes  averted;  she  let  these  two 
discuss  the  matter  between  themselves. 

"I  am  paying  an  additional  £80,"  said  Shortlands,  "to  have 
the  sheep  kept  off,  so  that  we  may  have  a  better  chance  at  the. 
j deer.  Fancy  all  that  stretcL  cf  land  only  able  to  provide  £80 
of  grazing!  I  wonder  what  some  of  the  fellows  on  your  side 
of  the  House,  Winterbourne,  would  say  to  that?  Gad,  I'll  tell 
you,  now,  what  I'd  like  to  see:  I'd  like  to  see  the  six  hundred 
and  sixty-six  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  put  on  to  Allt- 
:iani-ba,  and  compelled  to  get  their  living  off  it  for  five  years." 

"  They  wouldn't  try,"  said  his  friend,  contemptuously. 
"  They'd  only  talk.  One  honorable  member  would  make  a 
speech  three  columns  long  to  prove  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the 
riu;ht  honorable  gentleman  opposite  to  begin  rolling  off  a  few 
granite  bowlders;  and  the  right  honorable  gentleman  opposite 
would  make  a  speech  six  columns  long  to  show  that  there  was 


YOLANDE.  419 

no  parliamentary  precedent  for  such  a  motion;  and  an  Irishman 
would  get  up  to  show  that  any  labor  at  all  expended  on  a  Scotch 
moor  was  an  injury  done  to  the  Irish  fisheries,  and  another  rea- 
son why  the  Irish  revenues  should  be  managed  by  a  committee 
of  his  countryman  meeting  in  Dublin.  They'd  talk  the  heather 
bare  before  they'd  grow  an  ear  of  corn." 

"  By-the-way,"  said  John  Shortlands,  who  had  now  finished  his 
supper  and  was  ready  to  go  outside  and  smoke  a  pipe  in  the 
balcony  overlooking  the  Grand  Canal,  "  I  wonder  if  I  shall  be 
able  to  curry  favor  with  that  excellent  person,  Mrs,  Bell  ?" 

"  But  why  ?"  said  Yolande,  speaking  for  the  first  time  since 
this  Allt-nam-ba  project  was  mentioned. 

"  Oh,  that  she  might  perhaps  give  Edwards  and  them  a  few 
directions  when  they  go  to  get  the  place  ready  for  us.  I  dare 
say  they  will  find  it  awkward  at  first." 

"  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Bell  will  be  very  glad  to  do  that,"  Yolande 
said  at  once.  "  If  you  like  I  will  write  to  her  when  the  time 
comes." 

"  She  would  do  it  for  your  sake,  anyway,"  he  said.  "  Well, 
it  would  be  odd  if  we  should  have  just  the  same  party  in  the 
evenings  that  we  used  to  have  last  year.  They  were  very  snug, 
those  evenings — I  suppose  because  we  knew  we  were  so  far  out 
of  the  world,  and  a  small  community  by  ourselves.  I  hope  Jack 
Melville  will  still  be  there — my  heart  warmed  to  that  fellow ; 
he's  got  the  right  stuff  in  him,  as  we  say  in  the  North.  And 
the  Master — we  must  give  the  Master  a  turn  on  the  hill — I  have 
never  seen  his  smart  shooting  that  you  talked  so  much  about, 
Winterbonrne.  Wonder  if  he  ever  takes  a  walk  up  to  the  lodge  ? 
Should  think  it  must  be  pretty  cold  up  there  just  now ;  and 
cold  enough  at  Lynn,  for  the  matter  of  that." 

"But  Mr.  Leslie  isn't  at  Lynn,  is  he?"  said  Yolande,  sud- 
denly. 

"  Where  is  he,  then  ?" 

"  He  had  started  on  a  yachting  cruise  when  I  last  heard  from 
him,"  Yolande  said.  "  Why,  we  had  half  hoped  to  find  him  in 
Venice ;  and  then  it  would  have  been  strange — the  Allt-nam-ba 
party  all  together  again  in  Venice.  But  perhaps  he  is  still  at 
Naples — he  spoke  of  going  to  Naples." 

"  I  don't  know  about  Naples,"  said  Shortlands,  "  but  he  was 
in  Inverness  last  week." 

"  In  Inverness !     No ;  it  is  impossible  !" 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  certain.  lie  wrote  to  me  from  Inverness  about 
the  taking  of  the  shooting." 

"  Not  from  Lynn  ?"  said  Yolande,  rather  wonderingly. 


420  YOLANDE. 

"  No.  He  said  in  his  letter  that  he  had  happened  to  call  in 
at  Macpherson's  office — that  is  their  agent,  you  know — and  had 
seen  the  correspondence  about  the  shooting ;  and  it  was  then 
that  he  suggested  the  advisability  of  keeping  the  sheep  off  Allt- 
nam-ba." 

"  It  is  strange,"  Yolande  said,  thoughtfully.  "  But  he  was 
not  well  satisfied  with  his  companion — no — not  at  all  comfort- 
able in  the  yacht — and  perhaps  he  went  back  suddenly."  And 
then  she  added — for  she  was  obviously  puzzled  about  this  mat- 
ter— **  Was  he  staying  in  Inverness  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Did  he  write  from  the  Station  Hotel  ?"  she  asked  again, 
glancing  at  him. 

"  No ;  he  wrote  from  Macpherson's  office,  I  think.  You  know 
he  used  often  to  go  up  to  Inverness,  to  look  after  affairs." 

"  Yes,"  said  Yolande,  absently  :  she  was  wondering  whether 
it  was  possible  that  he  still  kept  up  that  aimless  feud  with  his 
relatives — aimless,  now  that  the  occasion  of  it  was  forever  re- 
moved. 

And  then  they  went  out  on  to  the  wide  balcony,  where  the  peo- 
ple were  sitting  at  little  tables,  smoking  cigarettes  and  sipping 
their  coffee  ;  and  all  around  was  a  cluster  of  gondolas  that  had 
been  stopped  by  their  occupants  in  going  by,  for  in  one  of  the 
gondolas,  moored  to  the  front  of  the  balcony,  was  a  party  of 
three  minstrels,  and  the  clear,  penetrating,  fine-toned  voice  of  a 
woman  rose  above  the  sounds  of  the  violins,  and  the  guitar,  with 
the  old  familiar 

"Mare  si  placido, 
Vento  si  caro 
Scordar  fa  i  triboli 
Al  marimiro" 

— and  beyond  this  dense  cluster  of  boats — out  on  the  pale  wa- 
ters of  the  Canal — here  and  there  a  gondola  glided  noiselessly 
along,  the  golden  star  of  its  lamp  moving  swiftly ;  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Canal  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Salute 
thrust  its  heavy  masses  of  shadow  out  into  the  white  moonlight. 
They  were  well  acquainted  with  this  scene ;  and  yet  the  wonder 
and  charm  of  it  never  seemed  to  fade.  There  are  certain  thing's 
that  repetition  and  familiarity  do  not  affect — the  strangeness  of 
the  dawn,  for  example,  or  the  appearance  of  the  first  primrose 
in  the  woods ;  and  the  sight  of  Venice  in  moonlight  is  another 
of  these  things — for  it  is  the  most  mysterious  and  the  most 
beautiful  picture  that  the  world  can  show. 


YOLANDE.  421 

By-and-by  the  music  ceased ;  there  was  a  little  collection  of 
money  for  the  performers;  and  then  the  golden  stars  of  the 
gondola  stole  away  in  their  several  directions  over  the  placid 
waters.  Mr.  Winterbourne  and  Yolande  summoned  theirs  also, 
for  it  was  getting  late  ;  and  presently  they  were  gliding  swiftly 
and  silently  through  the  still  moonlight  night. 

"  Papa,"  said  Yolande,  gently,  "  I  hope  you  will  go  with  Mr. 
Shortlands  in  the  autumn,  for  it  is  very  kind  of  him  to  ask  you ; 
but  I  would  rather  not  go.  Indeed,  you  must  not  ask  me  to  go. 
But  it  will  not  matter  to  you ;  I  shall  not  weary  until  you  come 
back ;  I  will  stay  in  London,  or  wherever  you  like." 

"  Why  don't  you  wish  to  go  to  Allt-nana-ba,  Yolande  ?"  said 
he. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  I  thought  you  were  very  happy  up  there,"  he  said,  regarding 
her. 

But,  though  the  moonlight  touched  her  face,  her  eyes  were 
cast  down,  and  he  could  not  make  out  what  she  was  thinking — 
perhaps  even  if  her  lips  were  tremulous  he  might  have  failed  to 
notice. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  at  length,  and  in  a  rather  low  voice,  "  perhaps 
I  was.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  go  again.  You  will  be  kind  and 
not  ask  me  to  go  again,  papa  ?" 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  he,  "  I  know  more  than  you  think — 
a  great  deal  more  than  you  think.  Now  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
a  question :  if  John  Melville  were  to  ask  you  to  be  his  wife, 
would  you  then  have  any  objection  to  going  to  Allt-nam-ba?" 

She  started  back,  and  looked  at  him  for  a  second,  with  an 
alarmed  expression  in  her  face ;  but  the  next  moment  she  had 
dropped  her  eyes. 

"  You  know  you  can  not  expect  me  to  answer  such  a  question 
as  that,"  she  said,  not  without  some  touch  of  wounded  pride. 

"But  he  has  asked  you,  Yolande,"  her  father  said,  quietly. 
"  There  is  a  letter  for  you  at  the  hotel.  It  is  in  my  writing-case ; 
it  has  been  there  for  a  month  or  six  weeks ;  it  was  to  be  given 
you  whenever — well,  whenever  I  thought  it  most  expedient  to 
give  it  to  you.  And  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  have  it  now 
— as  soon  as  we  go  back  to  the  hotel.  And  if  you  don't  want 
to  go  to  the  Highlands,  for  fear  of  meeting  Jack  Melville,  as  I 
imagine,  here  is  a  proposal  that  may  put  matters  straight.  Will 
it?" 

Her  head  was  still  held  down,  and  she  said,  in  almost  an  in- 
audible voice, 

"  Would  you  approve,  papa  ?"  • 


422  YOLANDE. 

"  Xay,  I'm  not  going  to  interfere  again  !"  said  he,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Choose  for  yourself.  I  know  more  now  than  I  did.  I  have 
had  some  matters  explained  to  me,  and  I  have  guessed  at  others; 
and  I  have  a  letter,  too,  from  the  Master — a  very  frank  and 
honest  letter,  and  saying  all  sorts  of  nice  things  about  you, 
too,  Yolande — yes,  and  about  Melville,  too,  for  the  matter  of 
that.  I  am  glad  there  will  be  no  ill-feeling,  whatever  happens. 
So  you  must  choose  for  yourself,  child,  without  let  or  hinderance 
— whatever  you  think  is  most  for  your  happiness — what  you 
most  wish  for  yourself — that  is  what  I  approve  of — " 

"  But  would  you  not  rather  that  I  remained  with  you,  papa  2" 
she  said,  though  she  had  not  yet  courage  to  raise  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  have  had  enough  of  you,  you  baggage !"  he  said, 
good-naturedly.  "  Do  you  expect  me  always  to  keep  dragging 
you  with  me  about  Europe  ?  Haven't  we  discussed  all  that 
before  ?  Nay,  but,  Yolande,"  he  added,  in  another  manner,  "  fol- 
low what  your  own  heart  tells  you  to  do.  That  will  be  your 
safest  guide." 

They  reached  the  hotel,  and  when  they  ascended  to  their  suite 
of  rooms  he  brought  her  the  letter.  She  read  it — carefully  and 
yet  eagerly,  and  with  a  flushed  forehead  and  a  beating  heart — 
while  he  lit  a  cigarette  and  went  to  the  window,  to  look  over  at 
the  moonlit  walls  and  massive  shadows  of  San  Giorgio.  There 
was  a  kind  of  joy  in  her  face ;  but  she  did  not  look  up.  She 
read  the  letter  again — and  again ;  studying  the  phrases  of  it  \ 
and  always  with  a  warmth  at  her  heart — of  pride,  and  gratitude, 
and  a  desire  to  say  something  to  some  one  who  was  far  nway. 

"  Well  ?"  her  father  said,  coming  back  from  the  window,  and 
appearing  to  take  matters  very  coolly. 

She  went  to  him,  and  kissed  him,  and  hid  her  face  in  his 
breast. 

"  I  think,  papa,"  said  she,  "  I — I  think  I  will  go  with  you  to 
Allt-nam-ba." 


CHAPTER  LI. 

CONCLUSION. 


Now,  it  is  not  possible  to  wind  up  this  history  in  the  ap- 
proved fashion,  because  the  events  chronicled  in  it  are  of  some^ 
what  recent  occurrence — indeed,  at  the  present  writing  the  Win- 
terboifrnes  and  John  Shortlands  are  still  looking  forward  to  their 


YOLANDE.  423 

flight  to  Allt-nam-ba,  when  Parliament  lias  ceased  talking  for 
the  year.  But  at  least  the  story  may  l>e.  brought  as  far  as  pussi- 
ble"up  to  date."  And  first,  as  regards  the  Master  of  Lvnn. 
When,  on  that  evening  in  Venice,  Yolande  had  imagined  that  lui 
was  in  Naples,  and  John  Shortlands  had  allirmed  that  ho  was  in 
Inverness,  he  was  neither  in  one  nor  the  other.  -  lie  was  in  a 
hotel  in  Princes  Street,  Edinburgh,  in  a  sitting-room  on  the  first 
floor,  lying  extended  on  a  sofa,  and  smoking  a  big  cigar,  while  \\ 
cup  of  coffee  that  had  been  brought  him  by  affectionate  hands 
stood  on  a  small  table  just  beside  him.  And  Shena  Van,  having  in 
vain  cudgelled  her  brains  for  fitting  terms  of  explanation  and 
apology,  which  she  wished  to  send  to  her  brother,  the  Professor, 
had  risen  from  the  writing-desk  and  gone  to  the  window  ;  and 
was  now  standing  there  contemplating  the  wonderful  panorama 
without — the  Scott  monument,  touched  with  the  moonlight,  the 
deep  shadows  in  the  valley,  the  ranges  of  red  windows  in  the 
tall  houses  beyond,  and  the  giant  bulk  of  the  Castle  IIill  reach- 
ing away  up  into  the  clear  skies. 

"  Shena,"  says  he,  "  what  o'clock  is  it  ?" 

"  A  quarter  past  nine,"  she  answers,  dutifully,  with  a  glance 
at  the  clock  on  the  chimney-piece. 

"  Capital !"  he  says,  with  a  kind  of  sardonic  laugh.  "  Excel- 
lent! A  quarter  past  nine.  Don't  you  feel  a  slight  vibration, 
Shcna,  as  if  the  earth  were  going  to  blow  up  ?  1  wonder  you 
don't  tremble  to  think  of  the  explosion  !" 

"  Oh  yes,  there  will  be  plenty  of  noise,"  says  Shena  Van,  con- 
tentedly. 

"  And  what  a  stroke  of  luck  to  have  the  Grahams  at  Lynn ! 
Bagging  the  whole  covey  with  one  carriage!  It  will  soon  be 
twenty  past.  I  can  see  the  whole  thing.  They  haven't  left  the 
dining-room  yet;  his  lordship  must  always  open  the  newspapers 
himself ;  and  the  women-folk  keep  on,  to  hear  whether  Queen 
Anne  has  come  alive  or  not.  Twenty  past,  isn't  it  ?  *  Hang 
that  fellow,  Lammer!'  his  lordship  growls.  'He's  always  late. 
Drinking  whiskey  at  Whitebridge,  I  suppose.  I'll  send  him 
about  his  business — that's  what  it'll  come  to.'  Then  his  lord- 
ship has  another  half-glass  of  port-wine;  and  Polly  thinks  she'll 
run  up-stairs  for  a  minute  to  see  that  the  blessed  baby  is  all 
right;  and  we'll  say  she's  at  the  door  when  they  hear  wheels 
outside,  and  so  she  stands  and  waits  for  the  letters  and  papers. 
All  right ;  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Polly  ;  you'll  get  something  to 
talk  about  presently." 

He  raised  himself  and  sat  up  on  the  sofa,  so  as  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  clock  opposite ;  and  Shena  Van — whose  proper 


424  YOLANDE. 

title  by  this  time  was  Janet  Leslie — came  and  stood  by  him,  and 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Will  they  be  very  angry,  Archie  ?"  she  says. 

He  had  his  eye  fixed  on  the  clock. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  says,  "  I  wish  I  was  one  of  those  fellows  who 
write  for  the  stage;  I  would  tell  you  what's  happening  at  this 
very  minute,  Shcna  !  I  can  see  the  whole  thing — Polly  gets  the 
letters  and  papers,  and  goes  back — '  Papa,  here  is  a  letter  from 
Archie — from  Edinburgh — what  is  he  doing  in  Edinburgh  ? ' 
And  then  his  papaship  opens  the  letter — *  My  dear  father, — I 
have  the  honor  to  inform  you — '  *  What ! '  he  roars,  like  a  stag 
lost  in  the  mist.  Why,  don't  you  hear  them,  Shena  ? — they're 
>11  at  it  now — their  tongues  going  like  wild-fire — Aunty  Tab 
wearing  she  knew  it  would  come  to  this — I  was  never  under 
proper  government,  and  all  the  rest — Polly  rather  inclined  to  say 
it  serves  them  right,  but  rather  afraid — Graham  suggesting  that 
they'd  better  make  the  best  of  it,  now  it  couldn't  be  helped — 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  he'll  say  that,  Archie  ?"  said  she,  anx- 
iously. "Do  you  think  he'll  be  on  our  side?" 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  care  the  fifteenth  part  of  a 
brass  farthing  which  of  them,  or  whether  any  one  of  them,  is 
on  our  side.  Not  a  bit.  It's  done.  Indeed,  I  hope  they'll 
howl  and  squawk  to  their  hearts'  content.  I  should  be  sorry  if 
they  didn't." 

"  But  you  know,  Archie,"  said  Shena  Van — who  had  her 
own  little  share  of  worldly  wisdom — "if  you  don't  get  recon- 
ciled to  your  friends,  people  will  say  that  you  only  got  married 
out  of  spite." 

"  Well,  let  them,"  said  he,  cheerfully.  "  You  and  I  know 
better,  Shena — what  matters  it  what  they  say?  I  know  what 
Jack  Melville  will  say.  They  won't  get  much  comfort  out  of 
him.  'No  one  has  got  two  lives;  why  shouldn't  he  make  the 
most  of  the  one  he's  got ;  why  shouldn't  he  marry  the  girl  he's 
fond  of  ? ' — that's  about  all  they'll  get  out  of  him.  Polly  needn't 
try  to  throw  the  Corrievreak  fly  over  him.  Well,  now,  Shena, 
when  one  thinks  of  it,  what  strange  creatures  people  are! 
There's  Corrievreak;  it's  a  substantial  thing;  it's  worth  a  heap 
of  solid  money,  and  it  might  be  made  worth  more ;  and  there  it 
was,  offered  to  our  family,  you  may  say,  to  keep  in  our  posses- 
sion perhaps  for  centuries.  And  what  interfered?  Why,  an 
impalpable  thing  like  politics  !  Opinions — things  you  couldn't 
touch  with  your  ten  fingers  if  you  tried  a  month — a  mere  pre- 
judice on  the  part  of  my  father — and  these  solid  advantages  are 
thrust  away.  Isn't  it  odd  ?" 


YOLANDE.  425 

The  abstract  question  had  no  interest  for  Shena  "Win. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  regret  it,"  she  said,  rather  proudly. 

"Do  I  speak  as  if  I  regretted  it?  No;  not  much  !  It  was 
that  trip  to  Carlisle  that  did  it,  Shena — that  showed  me  what 
was  the  right  thing  to  do.  And  after  you  left  wasn't  I  wild 
that  I  had  not  had  more  courage  !  And  then  Owley  became 
more  and  more  intolerable — but  I  dare  say  you  were  the  rauso 
of  it,  you  know,  in  part — and  then  I  said  to  myself,  «  Well,  I 
am  off  to  Aberdeen;  and  if  Shena  has  any  kind  of  recollection 
of  the  old  days  in  her  heart,  why,  I'll  ask  her  to  settle  the 
thing  at  once.'  " 

"  Yes,  but  why  wouldn't  you  let  me  tell  my  brother  ?"  Shena 
Van  pleaded. 

"Telling  one  would  have  been  telling  everybody,"  said  he, 
promptly,  "  and  they  would  have  been  at  their  old  games.  Now, 
you  see,  it  isn't  of  the  least  consequence  what  they  do  or  say — 
if  they  tear  their  hair  out  it'll  only  hurt  their  own  heads.  And 
I  don't  see  why  you  should  worry  about  that  letter.  Why 
should  you  make  apologies  ?  Why  should  you  pretend  to  be 
sorry — when  you're  not  ?  If  it  bothers  you  to  write  the  letter, 
send  a  copy  of  this  morning's  Scotsman  ;  that's  quite  enough. 
Send  them  all  this  morning's  Scotsman  ;  and  you  needn't  mark 
it;  it  will  be  all  the  pleasanter  surprise  for  them.  When  they've 
finished  with  the  leading  articles,  and  the  news,  and  the  criti- 
cisms of  the  picture-exhibitions,  and  when  they've  looked  to  see 
how  many  more  ministers  of  the  Gospel  have  been  writing  letters 
and  quarrelling  like  Kilkenny  cats,  then  they'll  stray  on  to  a 
nice  little  paragraph — '  What ! — St.  Giles's  Church — Archibald 
Leslie  to  Janet  Stewart ! ' — oh,  snakes !" 

"  But  you  wrote  to  your  people,  Archie,"  Shena  Van  said, 
looking  wistfully  at  the  sheet  of  note-paper  that  she  had  in  vain 
endeavored  to  fill  with  apologies  and  appeals  for  pardon. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  did,"  the  Master  of  Lynn  admitted,  with  a  pecu- 
liar smile.  "I  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  But  you  mis- 
take altogether,  Shena,  if  you  imagine  that  it  was  to  make 
apology  that  I  wTrote.  Oh  no ;  it  was  not  that ;  it  was  only  to 
convey  information.  It  was  my  filial  duty  that  prompted  me  to 
write.  Besides,  I  wished  the  joyful  tidings  to  reach  Aunty  Tabby 
as  soon  as  possible — oh,  don't  you  make  any  mistake,  Shena — 
she's  worth  a  little  consideration — she  has  a  little  money  of  her 
own — oh  yes,  she  may  do  something  for  us  yet!" 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  of  your  relations  in  that  way, 
Archie,"  said  Shena  Van,  rather  sadly,  "  for  if  you  think  of 


426  YOLANDE. 

them  like  that,  how  arc  you  ever  to  be  reconciled  to  them?  And 
you  told  me  it  would  Le  all  right." 

"And  so  it  will,  my  dear  girl,"  said  he,  good-naturedly.  "And 
this  is  the  only  way  to  put  it  all  right.  When  they  see  that  the 
thing  is  done,  then  they'll  come  to  their  senses.  Polly  will  be 
the  first.  She  always  makes  the  best  of  matters — she's  a  good 
little  soul.  And  his  lordship  won't  do  anything  desperate ;  he 
•won't  be  such  a  fool  as  to  drive  me  to  raise  money  on  my  expec- 
tations; and  he'll  soon  be  glad  enough  to  have  me  back  at  Lynn 
— the  people  there  want  some  looking  after,  as  he  knows.  Be- 
sides, he  ought  to  be  in  a  good-humor  just  now — both  the  forest 
and  Allt-nam-ba  hi  already,  and  Ardengreanan  as  good  as  taken." 

"  But  I  must  write — I  must  write,"  said  Shena,  regarding  the 
paper  again. 

"  Well,  it's  quite  simple,"  said  he.  "  Tell  your  brother  that, 
when  you  left  Aberdeen,  instead  of  going  either  to  Inverness  or 
to  Stratbaylort,  you  came  here  to  Edinburgh,  and  were  married, 
as  per  enclosed  cutting  from  the  Scotsman.  The  cause  ? — ur- 
gent family  reasons,  which  will  be  explained.  Then  you  ask 
him  to  be  good  enough  to  communicate  this  news  to  your  sister, 
and  also  to  send  a  message  to  the  Manse;  but  as  for  apologizing, 
or  anything  of  that  kind,  I'd  see  them  hanged  first.  Besides, 
it  isn't  good  policy.  It  isn't  wise  to  treat  your  relatives  like 
that,  and  lead  them  to  think  they  have  a  right  to  remonstrate 
with  you.  It's  your  business  ;  not  theirs.  You  have  quite  ar- 
rived at  years  of  discretion,  my  darling  Shena;  and  if  you  don't 
want  people  to  be  forever  jumping  on  you — that  is,  metaphori- 
cally, I  mean — stop  it  at  the  beginning,  and  with  decision. 
Here,"  said  he,  suddenly  getting  up  and  going  over  to  the  writ- 
ing-table, "  I'll  write  the  letter  for  you !" 

"Oh  no,  Archie !"  she  cried,  interposing.  "You  will  only 
make  them  angry." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  he,  pushing  her  away,  "honey  and  mo- 
lasses arc  a  fool  to  what  I  can  write  when  I  want  to  be  civil ; 
and  at  the  present  moment  I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  the 
whole  human  race." 

So  he  wrote  the  letter,  and  wrote  it  very  civilly,  too,  and  to 
Shena's  complete  satisfaction;  and  then  he  said,  as  he  finished 
his  coffee, 

"I  don't  think  we  shall  stay  long  in  Paris,  Shena.  I  don't. 
like  Paris.  You  won't  find  it  half  as  fine  a  town  to  look  at  as 
this  is  now.  And  if  you  go  the  threatre,  it's  all  spectacle  and 
ballot;  or  else  it's  the  story  of  a  married  woman  running  away 
with  a  lover;  and  that  isn't  the  kind  of  thing  you  ought  to  sco 


\OLANDE.  427 

on  your  wedding-trip,  is  it?  There's  no  saying  how  far  Iho 
f  >:. v  of  example  might  go;  and  you  see  you  began  your  w»-ddod 
lit'e  by  running  away." 

"It  was  none  of  my  doing,  Archie,"  said  SJiena  Van, 
quickly. 

"  No,"  said  he.  "  I  think  we'll  conic  back  to  London  soon ; 
for  everybody  will  be  there  at  the  opening  of  the  session,  and  I 
want  to  introduce  you  to  some  friends  of  mine.  Jack  Mclviiie 
says  he  is  going  up,  and  he  pretends  it's  about  his  electric  light- 
ing performance;  but  I  suspect  it's  more  to  meet  the  Wintrr- 
bournes,  when  they  come  back  from  abroad,  than  to  sec  the 
directors  of  the  company.  If  they  do  adopt  his  system,  I 
hope  he'll  make  them  fork  out,  for  he  is  not  overburdened  with 
the  gear  of  this  wicked  world  any  more  than  myself.  Faith,  I 
wish  my  Right  Honorable  papa  would  hand  along  the  cost  of 
that  special  license,  for  it  was  all  his  doing.  But  never  mind, 
Shena;  we'll  tide  along  somehow;  and  when  we  come  back 
from  our  trip,  if  they  are  still  showing  their  teeth,  like  a  badger 
in  a  hole,  I  know  what  I'll  do — we'll  go  over  to  the  West  ef 
Ireland  for  the  salmon-fishing,  and  we  can  live  cheaply  enough 
in  one  of  the  hotels  there,  either  on  the  Shannon  or  out  in  Con- 
ncmara.  How  would  you  like  that?" 

"Oh,  I  should  be  delighted!"  said  Shena  Van,  with  the  dark, 
wonderful  blue  eyes  filled  with  pleasure.  "For  I'm  afraid  to  go 
back  to  Inverness,  and  that's  the  truth,  Archie." 

"  Oh,  but  we  shall  have  to  go  back  to  Inverness,  all  in  good 
time,"  said  he,  "  and  it  won't  do  to  be  afraid  of  anything.  And 
I  think  you'll  hold  your  own,  Shcna,"  he  added,  approvingly. 
"  I  think  you'll  hold  your  own." 

And  so  at  this  point  we  may  bid  good-by  to  these  adventurers 
(who  seemed  pleased  enough  with  such  fortune  as  had  befallen 
them),  and  come  along  to  another  couple  who,  a  few  weeks 
later,  were  walking  one  evening  on  the  terrace  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  It  was  a  dusky  and  misty  night,  though  it  was  mild 
for  that  time  of  the  year;  the  heavens  were  overclouded;  the 
lights  on  Westminster  Bridge  and  on  the  Embankment  did  little 
to  dispel  the  pervading  gloom,  though  the  quivering  golden  re- 
flections on  the  black  river  looked  picturesque  enough;  and  in 
this  dense  obscurity  such  Members  and  their  friends  as  hac1 
come  out  from  the  heated  atmosphere  of  the  House  to  have  a 
chat  or  a  cigar  on  the  terrace  were  only  indistinguishable  figures 
who  could  not  easily  be  recognized.  They,  for  the  most  part, 
were  seated  on  one  or  other  of  the  benches  standing  about,  or 
idly  leaning  against  the  parapet ;  but  these  two  kept  walking 


428  YOLANDE. 

up  and  down  in  front  of  the  vast  and  shadowy  building  and  the 
gloomy  windows,  and  they  were  arm-in-ann. 

"  A  generation  hence,"  said  one  of  them,  looking  at  the  murky 
scene  all  around  them,  "  Londoners  won't  believe  that  their  city 
could  ever  have  been  as  black  a  pit  as  this  is." 

"  But  this  generation  will  see  the  change,  will  it  not  ?"  said  his 
companion,  whose  voice  had  just  a  trace  of  a  foreign  accent  in 
it.  "You  are  going  to  make  the  transformation,  are  you  not?" 

"  I  ?"  said  he,  laughing.  "  I  don't  know  how  many  are  all 
trying  at  it ;  and  whoever  succeeds  in  getting  what  is  really 
wanted  will  be  a  wonder-worker,  I  can  tell  you.  "What's  more, 
he  will  be  a  very  rich  man.  You  don't  seem  to  think  about 
that,  Yolande." 

"  About  what,  then  ?" 

"  Why,  that  you  are  going  to  marry  a  very  poor  man." 

"  No,  I  do  not  care  at  all,"  she  said,  or  rather  what  she  did 
say  was,  "  I  do  not  care  aytall " — despite  the  tuition  of  her 
father. 

"  That  is  because  you  don't  understand  what  it  means,"  said 
he,  in  a  kindly  way.  "  You  have  had  no  possibility  of  knowing. 
You  can't  have  any  knowledge  of  what  it  is  to  have  a  limited 
income — to  have  to  watch  small  economies,  and  the  like." 

"  Ah,  indeed,  then  !"  said  she.  "  And  my  papa  always  angry 
with  me  for  my  economies,  and  the  care  and  the  thrift  that  the 
ladies  at  the  Chateau  exercised  always  !  *  Miser,'  he  says  to  me 
. — *  miser  that  you  are  ! '  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  poor — 
not  aytall !" 

"  1  have  a  chance,"  he  said,  absently.  "  So  far,  indeed,  I  have 
been  lucky.  And  the  public  are  hanging  back  just  now ;  they 
have  seen  so  many  bad  experiments  that  they  won't  rush  at  any 
one  system  without  examining  the  others ;  it's  the  best  one  that 
will  win  in  the  end.  But  it's  only  a  chance,  after  all.  Yolande," 
said  he,  "  I  wonder  if  I  was  born  to  be  your  evil  genius?  It  was 
I  who  sent  you  away  from  your  own  home — where  you  were 
happy  enough  ;  and  you  must  have  suffered  a  terrible  anxiety  all 
that  time — I  can  see  the  change  in  you." 

"  Oh,  but  I  will  not  have  you  speak  like  that,"  said  she,  putting 
her  other  hand  on  his  arm.  "  How  can  you  speak  like  that  to 
me  when  it  is  night  and  day  that  I  can  not  tell  you  how  grateful 
\  arn  to  you  ?  Yes ;  it  was  you  who  sent  me ;  if  I  had  not  loved 
/on  before*  i  should  love  you  for  that  now — with  my  whole 
heart  If  you  had  known — if  you  had  seen — what  joy  it  was 
to  my  poor  mother  that  I  was  with  her  for  that  time — that  we 
were  together — and  she  happy  and  cheerful  for  the  first  time  for 


YOLANDE.  429 

many,  many  sad  years — if  you  had  seen  the  gladness  in  her  face 
every  morning  when  she  saw  me — then  perhaps  you  would  have 
understood.  And  if  I  had  not  gone  to  her — if  I  had  never 
known  her — if  she  had  never  had  that  little  happiness— would 
that  not  have  been  a  sad  thing  ?  That  she  might  have  died 
among  strangers — and  I,  her  own  daughter,  amusing  myself  with 
friends  and  idleness  and  pleasure  somewhere — it  is  too  terrible 
to  think  of!  And  who  prevented  that?  It  is  not  my  gratitude 
only,  it  is  hers  also  that  I  give  you,  that  I  offer  you.  You  made 
her  happy  for  a  time,  when  she  had  need  of  some  kindness  ;  and 
you  can  not  expect  that  I  shall  forget  it." 

"  You  are  too  generous,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  small  matter  to 
offer  advice.  /  sacrificed  nothing;  the  burden  of  it  fell  on 
you.  But  I  will  be  honest  with  you.  I  guessed  that  you 
would  have  anxiety  and  trouble  ;  but  I  knew  you  would  be  brave 
enough  to  face  it ;  and  I  knew,  too,  that  you  would  not  after- 
ward regret  whatever  you  might  have  come  through,  and  I 
know  that  you  don't  regret  it  now.  I  know  you  well  enough 
for  that." 

"  And  some  day,"  she  said,  "  or  perhaps  through  many  and 
many  years,  I  will  try  to  show  you  what  value  I  put  on  your 
opinion  of  me ;  and  if  I  do  not  always  deserve  that  you  think 
well  of  me,  at  least  I  shall  try  to  deserve  it — can  I  promise 
more  ?" 

At  this  moment  John  Shortlands  made  his  appearance ;  he 
had  come  out  from  the  smoking-room,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"  Look  here,  Yolande,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  you  don't  want 
to  hear  any  more  of  the  debate  2" 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  quickly.  "  It  is  stupid — stupid.  Why  do 
they  not  say  what  they  mean  at  once — not  stumbling  here,  stum- 
bling there,  and  all  the  others  talking  among  themselves,  and  as 
if  everybody  were  going  asleep  ?" 

"  It's  lively  enough  sometimes,  I  can  assure  you,"  he  said. 
"  However,  your  father  thinks  it's  no  use  your  waiting  any 
longer.  He's  determined  to  wait  until  the  division  is  taken  ;  and 
no  one  knows  now  when  it  will  be.  He  says  you'd  better  go 
back  to  your  hotel — I  suppose  Mr.  Melville  will  see  you  so 
far.  Well,"  said  he,  addressing  Jack  Melville,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  the  dinner  Wintcrbournc  got  for  you  ?" 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  it  much,"  Jack  Melville  said.  "  I  was 
more  interested  in  the  Members.  I  haven't  been  near  the  House 
of  Commons  since  I  used  to  come  up  from  Oxford  for  the  boat- 
race." 

"  How's  the  company  aroint  ?" 


430  YOLANDE. 

"  Pretty  well,  I  think ;  but  of  course  I've  nothing  to  do  with 
that.  I  have  no  capital  to  invest." 

"  Except  brains ;  and  sometimes  that's  as  good  as  bank-notes. 
Well,"  said  Shortlands,  probably  remembering  an  adage  about  the 
proper  number  for  company,  "  I'll  bid  ye  good-night — for  I'm 
going  back  to  the  mangle — I  may  take  a  turn  at  it  myself." 

So  Jack  Melville  and*Yolande  together  set  out  to  find  their 
way  through  the  corridors  of  the  House  out  into  the  night- 
world  of  London ;  and  when  they  were  in  Palace-yard  Yo- 
lande  said  she  would  just  as  soon  walk  up  to  the  hotel  where 
her  father  and  herself  were  staying,  for  it  was  no  farther  away 
than  Albemarle  Street. 

"Did  you  hear  what  Mr.  Shortlands  said?"  she  asked, 
brighly.  "  Perhaps,  after  all,  then,  there  is  to  be  no  romance  ? 
I  am  not  to  be  like  the  heroine  of  a  book,  who  is  approved 
because  she  marries  a  poor  man  ?  I  am  not  to  make  any  such 
noble  sacrifice  ?" 

"Don't  be  too  sure,  Yolandc,"  said  he,  good-naturedly. 
"Companies  are  kittle  cattle  to  deal  with;  and  an  inventor's 
business  is  still  more  uncertain.  There  is  a  chance,  as  T  say  ; 
but  it  is  only  a  chance.  However,  if  that  fails,  there  will  be 
something  else.  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  And  I — am  I  afraid?"  she  said,  lightly  "  No  !  Because  I 
know  more  than  you — oh,  yes,  a  great  deal  more  than  you. 
And  perhaps  I  should  not  speak  ;  for  it  is  a  secret — no,  no,  it  is 
not  a  secret,  for  you  have  guessed  it — do  you  not  know  that 
you  have  Monaglen  ?" 

He  glanced  at  her  to  see  whether  she  was  merely  making  fun ; 
but  he  saw  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  making  an  actual — if 
amused — inquiry. 

"  Well,  Yolande,"  said  he,  "  of  course  I  know  of  Mrs.  Bell's 
fantasy ;  but  I  don't  choose  to  build  my  calculations  for  the 
future  on  a  fantasy." 

"  But,"  said  Yolande,  rather  shyly,  "  if  you  were  told  it  was 
done  ?  If  Monaglen  were  already  yours  ?  If  the  lawyers  had 
done — oh,  everything — all  settled — what  then?"  ' 

"  «  What  then  ?  *  I  would  refuse  to  take  it.  But  it  is  absurd. 
Mrs.  Bell  can  not  be  such  a  madwoman.  I  know  she  is  a  very 
kind  woman ;  and  there  is  in  her  nature  a  sort  of  romantic  at- 
tachment to  my  father's  family — which  I  rather  imagine  she 
has  cultivated  by  the  reading  of  those  old  songs.  Still  she  can 
not  have  done  anything  so  wild  as  that." 

"She  has  bought  Monaglen,"  Yolande  said,  without  looking 
up. 


YOI..I\,  431 

"Very  well.  I  thought  she  would  do  that — if  she  heard  it 
was  in  the  market,  Very  well.  Why  shouldn't  she  go  thorn 
— and  send  for  her  relatives,  if  she  has  any — and  he  a  grand 
lady  there?  I  have  met  more  than  one  grand  lady  who  hadn't 
half  her  natural  grace  of  manner,  nor  half  her  kindlin. 
heart," 

"  It  is  very  sad,  then,"  said  Yolar.de  (who  was  afraid  to  drive 
him  into  a  more  decided  and  definitive  opposition),  "llcrei'3 
a  poor  woman  who  lias  the  one  noble  ideal — the  dream  of  her 
life — it  has  been  her  hope  and  her  pleasure  for  many  arid  many 
a  year ;  and  when  it  comes  near  to  completion — no — there  is 
an  obstacle — and  the  last  obstacle  that  one  could  have  imagined! 
^.h,  the  ingratitude  of  it !  It  has  been  her  romance ;  it  lias 
been  the  charm  of  her  life.  She  lias  no  husband,  no  children. 
She  has,  I  think,  not  any  relation  left.  And  because  you  are 
proud,  you  do  not  care  that  you  disappoint  her  of  the  one  hope 
of  her  life — that  you  break  her  heart  ?" 

"  Ah,  Yolande,"  said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  Mrs.  Bell  has  got  hold 
of  you  with  her  old  Scotch  songs— she  has  been  walking  you 
through  fairyland,  and  your  reason  has  got  perverted.  What 
do  you  think  people  would  say  if  I  were  to  take  away  this  poor 
woman's  money  from  her  relatives — or  from  her  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, if  she  has  no  relatives  ?  It  is  too  absurd.  If  I  were 
the  promoter  of  a  swindling  company,  now,  I  could  sharp  it  out 
of  her  that  way  ;  that  would  be  all  right,  and  I  should  remain  an 
honored  member  of  society  ;  but  this  won't  do — this  won't  do  at 
all.  You  may  be  as  dishonest  as  you  like,  and  so  long  as  you 
don't  give  the  law  a  grip  on  you,  and  so  long  as  you  keep  rich 
enough,  you  can  have  plenty  of  public  respect;  but  you  can't 
afford  to  become  ridiculous.  No,  no,  Yolande ;  if  Mrs.  Bell  has 
bought  Monaglen,  let  her  keep  it.  I  hope  she  will  install  herself 
there,  and  play  Lady  Bountiful — she  can  do  that  naturally 
enough;  and  when  she  has  had  her  will  of  it,  then,  if  she  likes 
to  leave  it  to  me  at  her  death,  I  shall  be  her  obliged  and  humble 
servant.  But  in  the  mean  time,  my  dearest  Yolande,  as  you  and 
I  hare  got  to  face  the  world  together,  I  think  we'd  better  have 
as  little  fantasy  around  us  as  possible — except  the  fantasy  of 
affection,  and  the  more  of  that  we  have  the  better." 

When  they  got  to  the  hotel  they  paused  outside  the  glass 
door  to  say  good-by. 

"  Gopd-night,  dearest  Yolande." 

"  Good-night,  dear  Jack." 

And  then  she  looked  up  at  this  broad-shouldered,  pale,  dark 


432  YOLANDE. 

man,  and  there  was  a  curious  smile  in  her  beautiful,  sweet,  and 
serious  face. 

"  Is  it  true,"  she  asked,  "  that  a  woman  always  has  her  own 
way?" 

"  They  say  so,  at  all  events,"  was  the  answer. 

"  And  if  two  women  have  the  same  wish  and  the  same  hope 
and  only  one  man  to  say  no,  then  it  is  still  more  likely  he  will 
be  defeated?" 

"  I  shouldn't  say  he  had  much  chance  myself,"  Jack  Melvillo 
said.  "  But  what's  your  conundrum,  now,  sweetheart  ?" 

"  Then  I  foresee  something,"  she  said.  **  Yes,  I  see  that  we 
shall  have  to  ask  Mr.  Leslie  to  be  very  kind,  and  to  lend  us 
Duncan  Macdonald  for  an  evening.  Oh,  not  so  very  far  away 
— not  so  far  away  as  you  imagine ;  because,  you  know,  when  we 
have  all  gone  up  to  Monaglen  House,  and  we  arc  all  inside,  going 
over  the  rooms — and  looking  here  and  there  with  a  great  curios- 
ity and  interest — or  perhaps  we  are  all  seated  in  the  dining-room, 
having  a  little  chat  together — then  what  will  you  say  if  all  at 
once  you  heard  the  pipes  outside,  and  what  do  you  think  Dun- 
can will  play,  on  such  an  evening  as  that,  if  not  Melville's  Wel- 
come Home  /" 


THE    END. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

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24f«l  a:  5 
MAR  1  7  1955 


LD  21-100m-l, '54(1887816)476 


W45826 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


